


Somewhere between reality and all we’ve ever dreamed

by coldflashwavebaby



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Peter Pan Fusion, Amnesia, Author Leonard Snart, F/M, Fairy Barry, Kidnapping, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Misuse of classical literary characters, Neverland is real, Not really a fusion though, Protective Leonard Snart, True Love, You have to read it okay?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-10-08 05:32:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17380538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldflashwavebaby/pseuds/coldflashwavebaby
Summary: "The book ends with Hook catching up to Tinkerbell and Pan. He almost murders Pan, so Tinkerbell destroys herself to save him, blasting him and whatever was left of her to Earth, somewhere Hook would never find them.”“How’d you get my ending?” Len whispered, walking around so he could sit on the coffee table, right across from Mick.“I lived it.”"You can’t have lived it, it’s a book. About Peter Pan. It’s not a memoir.”“Oh, it is,” Mick disagreed. “One you don’t remember shit about. But we gotta change that.” He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Cuz Hook ain’t gonna stop until he has you both back, and this time, he’ll kill you dead.”~~~***~~~The Peter Pan AU that no one asked for or expected.





	1. Going Away Means Forgetting

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really testing the waters with this. A lot of people liked my post about it on tumblr, so I thought I'd try it out as a story. Before you ask, this is NOT Hook. It's loosely based on every Peter Pan thing I've ever seen or read, with my own story ideas mixed in. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, and comment if you want more!

**_“The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease forever to be able to do it.”_ **

**-JM Barrie**

  
  
~~~~***~~~~

 

In his dreams, he flew without wings. Over mountains and lagoons, past jungles and seas, over mermaids and pirates. He laughed with joy, spun in the air, and never felt safer than when he spotted a little ball of light beside him. 

 

But all dreams end, and this one was no different. 

 

Len woke slowly, memories of that dream blowing away with the winds of consciousness, and became aware of a weight on his chest. He opened his eyes and smirked. He’d almost forgot about the party he had attended, doing publicity for his books. He was glad he hadn’t forgotten what happened  _ after _ . 

 

A dark-haired woman was sprawled over his chest. On his other side, a brunette man was resting his face against his stomach, unknowingly brushing his lips very close to some very desirable areas. 

 

Len ran the fingers of his left hand down the woman’s--Valerie? Victoria?  _ Valentina!-- _ back, while dropping his other hand to brush against the man’s, Hartley Rathaway of the Rathaway Family, hair. It wasn’t his first time with Hart, nor was it the first time he’d woken up with multiple people in his bed. It was one of his favorite things about being a best-selling romance author. 

 

He hadn’t meant to write a novel when he sat down to sketch out his dreams. Peter Pan wasn’t even his favorite story, but for some reason, he felt a connection. Eventually, his dreams became ‘No Longer Neverland’, the story of an older Peter Pan who left Neverland to travel into other realms, with Tinkerbell at his side. He wasn’t sure at what point he realized that Tinkerbell and Peter were falling in love, but god was he glad it happened. Now, he had people throwing themselves at his feet, hoping he was half the romantic he made Peter in the books. 

 

He wasn’t--he was much more of a ‘love em and leave em kind of guy’. He didn’t want a grand romance or a true love. He was happy with nights of pleasure and days of solitude. 

 

Although…

 

He looked at the clock on his bedside table. It was still early morning, long before anyone had to be anywhere. He wondered if he could get another round in before he had to meet with his agent. 

 

\----------

 

When he walked inside Lisa’s office, he knew he was in trouble. Lisa Snart was like a sister to him. He’d known her ever since he was found wandering the streets without any memory at seventeen. Her mother had taken him in and helped him out, and had even pushed him to publish his stories. 

 

Lisa became a literary agent to watch out for him. Even though she was his little sister, she felt like he never watched out for himself, despite having her back since he came into their house.

 

Without a word, she threw a tabloid down on the desk. On it was a picture of him and Hartley, making out in the back of the party, his hand down the front of Hart’s pants.

 

The headline read, “Rathaway books it from party with bestselling author”.  At least the article wasn’t centered around him.

 

Len fell into the chair across from her and shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, Lis. People already know that I’m not straight. Hartley Rathaway is a respected member of upper society, despite his homophobic parents trying to put him down all the time. I don’t see the big deal.” 

 

“The big deal,” she hissed, leaning over in her chair, “is that I don’t want to see my brother fucking some guy on the cover of tabloid every other week.  You’re not in your twenties anymore! Eventually, you have to put away the ho and become an adult. God, when was the last time you even went on a date with one of your conquests?”

 

Len pursed his lips in thought. “Do you mean before or after?” 

 

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Is the answer going to change?”

 

“No, just I’m just curious.” 

 

She rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. “This is ridiculous. Honestly. Look, this isn’t me as your agent talking. This is me as your  _ sister. _ For God’s sake, go on a date. Or at least stay out of the papers.”

 

“No promises,” he replied. “So, what’s on my to-do before the book release?”

 

Lisa narrowed her eyes at him before grabbing a Manila folder off her desk. “You have a book signing at Gideon & Hunter’s Book Shop. People who buy the box set of your first three books get vouchers to be first in line for the new one.” 

 

Len nodded. “What time is that at?” 

 

“It’s an evening event.”

 

He tried to hide the small smile on his lips, but Lisa, being Lisa, caught it. “No.  _ No.  _ No hookups tonight. I’m putting my foot down. You need to focus on promoting your book.”

 

“C’mon, Lis,” he complained. “It’s not that big a deal.” 

 

“It  _ is. _ ” She grabbed her letter opener and pointed it at him. “If you leave halfway through the event because you decided to hook up with some bimbo, I will personally stab you in the balls.”

 

“Love you too, sis,” he grumbled, though he did cross his legs. 

 

She shook her head, a small smile on her face. “Whatever, jerk,” she replied, sitting the letter opener down so she could ball up a piece of paper and throw it at him. “Go back home and get ready for tonight. The car will pick you up around five. Try to look presentable.”

 

He smiled back and kicked to his feet, flicking his sister off as he left her office. 

 

\----------

 

Usually, Len hated book signings. It wasn’t that he disliked his fans--after all, he wouldn’t be able to own three houses and date anyone he wanted without them--but sometimes they were a bit...intense. 

 

Gideon & Hunter’s was a large book store, with a stage for Len to sit on and read his first chapter aloud, and a lot of places he could slip away with someone and disobey his sister. It was his favorite store to do signings at, too, because Rip Hunter, the owner, was strict with time limits and only let people have two to three minutes before they had to move on. 

 

The best part was the ‘groupies’. People don’t think that authors have groupies, but when you’re a top romance novelist and adventure writer, women  _ and  _ men threw themselves at his feet. And who was Len to deny them that? 

 

He signed another book from a busty woman leaning too far across the table with her low cut shirt. He looked her over for a minute, but decided against it, signing the book and passing it on. She pouted, but Len had already moved onto the next person in line. 

 

The signing went on for another two hours until he came to the last person in line. When Len saw him, his jaw dropped. 

 

The man was like a walking wet dream. He was a large man--built, but not in a douchey ‘I go to the gym, check out my biceps’ way. He was wearing a tight black v-neck that left little to Len’s imagination. 

 

He was near salivating at the thought of having this man in his bed. He put on his most charming smile as the man slid a copy of his book to him.

 

“And who do I make this out to?” he asked, flipping open the book without tearing his eyes off the man. 

 

Said man rolled his eyes. “Mick.” 

 

His voice was rough and gravelly and made Len shiver a bit. He signed a generic message in the front of the book but held onto it. Mick didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed relieved that Len didn’t send him away. That was a good sign. 

 

“You don’t seem like one of the hopeless romantics who usually buy my books.”

 

“I’m not,” he grunted.

 

Len handed back the book. “Girlfriend?”

 

Mick rolled his eyes. “I’m not here for the book, jackass.”

 

A smirk pulled at the edge of Len’s lips. “Oh?”

 

Mick frowned like Len had said or done something unexpected. Maybe Len had misread the situation. 

 

Then, some kind of realization passed over Mick’s face. He leaned over the table, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear. 

 

“You and me need to talk... _ privately. _ ”  

 

Len raised an eyebrow. His pants tightened a bit as he pictured what that entailed. He licked his lips. “Sure.” 

 

He called over one of the security officers and told him he was heading to the bathroom, before standing and motioning for Mick to follow. Across the room, Lisa looked up at him with narrowed eyes. Len shrugged and led Mick to the storage room in the back of the store. 

 

Once they got there, Len leaned against the wall, waiting for Mick to make his move. Usually, groupies jumped him the second they were out of sight, but Mick was just staring at him. 

 

“You don’t remember me, do you?” 

 

Len tilted his head, eyes scanning the man in front of him. He  _ definitely  _ would’ve remembered sleeping with someone as attractive as him. He stepped close into Mick’s space. “Should I?”

 

Mick opened his mouth, then closed it. He seemed confused, so Len decided to clear things up for him. He leaned forward and brought their lips together. A split second later, he was pushed away, and Mick was staring at him with even more confusion and disgust. Then, he scoffed.

 

“I’m not here to get into your pants, asshole!” Mick growled, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. “I’m here because you need to go home!” 

 

This time, Len was the confused one. “Home? I  _ am  _ home. I’ve lived in New York City for as long as I can remember.” 

 

Mick’s frown deepened. “You really don’t remember anything do you?”

 

Len stepped away. No one knew about Len’s memory loss except Lisa and her family. That he couldn’t remember anything before he was eighteen. That his entire past was a blank slate, including his birth family and entire childhood. 

 

“Did...did I know you growing up?” he asked. “You know where I’m from? You know my family?”

 

Mick laughed humorlessly, before turning and punching the wall behind him so hard, his fist went right through it. Len jumped at the sudden burst of anger. “Dammit. Of fucking course you had to fuck us all over one more time.”

 

Len furrowed his brow. “Us? What do you mean ‘us’?” 

 

Mick turned back to Len, eyes angry, and Len knew he needed to hear what Mick had to say. In two words, Len knew Mick was the most important person he’d met yet. “Your family.” 

 

\----------

 

Len led Mick into his apartment begrudgingly--he wouldn’t talk about Len’s family or life in public. For a second, he’d thought that maybe he was trying to take advantage. Get Len to take him home, then knock him out and rob him or something. Then, he thought about how Mick had pushed him away from the kiss when he could’ve gone along with it and just went home with him. It would’ve been a hell of a lot easier. 

 

He walked into the kitchen and grabbed them each a beer from the fridge, popping the caps off, before joining Mick in the living room. Mick was standing at the bookcase where Len kept all his novels, even the ones he hadn’t published. Mick grabbed one that he kept shoved in the corner and opened it. 

 

Sitting the beers on the coffee table, Len rushed over to take it, but Mick blocked him, flipping through his story notes and sketches. 

 

“So, you  _ do  _ remember the others,” he said. “Here I was thinking you were drawing a complete blank on everything, but here they are.”

 

Len looked over his shoulder and noticed the ‘Lost Boy’ sketches. A blonde girl with the name ‘Canary’. A dorky kid with glasses and ridiculous smile labeled ‘Atom’. There was ‘Storm’, ‘Steel’, and ‘The Kid’. Before he could turn the page again, Len snatched the book from his hands. 

 

Mick scowled at him. “Hey!” 

 

“You were going to tell me about my family,” he reminded him. “Not search through my private notes.” 

 

Mick took a seat on the couch with a sigh. “This ain’t an easy conversation to have.”  He grabbed the beer off the table, looked it over for a second, and then took a drink. His face lit up. “Damn, what is this?” 

 

“Concentrate,” Len said, rolling his eyes. “Where do I come from?” 

 

Mick thought about it for a second before answering. “I don’t know where you were born, but you lived on an island growing up. That’s where I met you.”

 

An island…

 

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “What island?”

 

“That...doesn’t matter. What matters is that you grew up with me and a bunch of other kids. We all lost our parents at young ages, so there wasn’t a lot of parenting, but you looked out for us all. There were some bad people, and you kept us safe and away from them.”

 

So, he was a street kid. That sounded like Len. Explained why he was so cynical. “So, I was a street urchin. Not the most unbelievable backstory. Why don’t I remember any of it?”

 

Mick’s face scrunched in thought like he was trying to figure out the right way to word it all. “You...you got attacked by a mean son of a bitch. A friend of ours tried to protect you, but they were hurt too. You disappeared. It took me twenty-eight years to find you. Even without your memories, you’re a pain in my ass.”

 

Len snorted. It would not be the first time someone called him that. “What else? There has to be more about me. Just your face tells me that you aren’t giving me the whole story.”

 

Mick pinched the bridge of his nose. “You ain’t gonna believe me.”

 

“Try me.” Len had imagined everything over the years--being part of human trafficking, being secret royalty, being the illegitimate child heir of a large fortune. Whatever Mick had to say couldn’t be out of the realm of his imagination. 

 

Mick licked his lips and looked to the books. “I’ve never read one of your books,” he said. “Not a damn one. I actually don’t read all that good--I mostly taught myself. But I know something about those stories that no one else does. Not even you.”

 

Len sighed, throwing back his head. He didn’t have time for this. “And what is that?”

 

“After Peter Pan and Tinkerbell fucked off to whatever magical realm they ran to, Neverland was never the same. Without it’s selected king, the island itself became feral. The natives retreated into the mountains. The mermaids became more violent and bloodthirsty. It became almost impossible for the Lost Boys to survive, especially when Hook and his pirates started hunting them for information. So, most of them joined the pirates. Pan’s most loyal--his original Lost Boys--stayed in the jungle, barely living and always hoping that Pan would come back. But he never did.”

 

“How do you know that’s not how this next book ends?” Len asked, raising an eyebrow. 

 

Mick clenched his fist, shaking with what seemed like sudden fury. “Cuz it’s not what happened. The book ends with Hook catching up to Tinkerbell and Pan. He almost murders Pan, so Tinkerbell destroys herself to save him, blasting him and whatever was left of her to Earth, somewhere Hook would never find them.”

 

Len’s eyes widened. There was no way Mick could know that. The book was  _ just  _ released. He couldn’t have read it on the way to Len’s apartment. 

 

“How’d you get my ending?” he whispered, walking around so he could sit on the coffee table, right across from Mick.

 

“I didn’t,” Mick replied. “I lived it.”

 

Len’s frown deepened along with his confusion. “What does that even mean? You can’t have lived it, it’s a book. About  _ Peter Pan _ . It’s not a memoir.”

 

“Oh, it is,” Mick disagreed. “One you don’t remember shit about. But we gotta change that.” He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Cuz Hook ain’t gonna stop until he has you both back, and this time, he’ll kill you dead.”

 

\----------

 

So, Len had invited a crazy person into his home. Sure, it wouldn’t be the first time, but usually, the crazy part meant weird sex and not being accused of being Peter Pan. He threatened to call the police, but Mick overpowered him before he could even reach for his phone. 

 

Next thing he knew, he was cuffed to the headboard of his bed with fluffy cuffs from his closet while Mick sat in a chair beside him. 

 

“My sister’s going to come looking for me,” Len warned. “You can’t keep me here.”

 

“I’m hoping I can convince you to come back with me before this gets to that point,” Mick replied. “Then again, you always were a stubborn son of a bitch, and I wouldn’t believe me either.”

 

He shrugged and continued flipping through one of Len’s notebooks. Every now and then, he’d chuckle at something, or roll his eyes. “I can’t believe you changed Sara into a guy for these books. She’d hate that.” 

 

Len pulled at the cuffs angrily. “Stop that! Stop...talking about my characters like they’re real people. They’re fictional.”

 

Something niggled at the back of his brain, though. How did Mick know Sara was the original character design for Canary? He never referred to the Lost Boys by any name than the ones they chose for themselves--their Never Names.  

 

Mick didn’t reply. Instead, he sat the notebook he’d been skimming through to the side and picked up another one. An older one--emerald green with a scarlet red spine that had been opened so often, some of the pages fell out. His heart lurched.

 

“Put that one down,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

 

Mick raised an eyebrow and flipped open the book anyway. As he gently turned through the pages, he let out a low whistle. “This was your first notebook, wasn’t it? The one where you started writing all about your suppressed memories.”

 

Len rolled his eyes. “They’re not suppressed memories. They’re fantasies and dreams. You’re just crazy.”

 

Mick cleared his throat. “ _ I always thought that growing up meant losing everything,”  _ he read,  _ “but when I held Tinkerbell in the palm of my hands while she choked on her last, poisoned breath, I knew that staying young didn’t protect you from the reality of life--a reality Hook had dragged into my magical playground. Deep down, I’d always thought the war between the pirates and Lost Boys was a game, despite Tink’s constant warnings. I never listened to her. But in that one moment, as I laid out on the grass outside of our hideaway, Tink’s cold body cradled against my heart, all I could wish for was to hear her voice, her bells, one more time. Tinkerbell always believed in me, and that day in the Neverwoods, I gave her every ounce of belief I had in my heart. It wasn’t until now I realized that I’d given her all of me that day, the same way she’d given all of her my entire life.”  _

 

Mick looked back up at Len, almost judgingly. Len didn’t know why, but he felt like Mick had just read out some dirty secret from his diary, instead of the first draft of a passage in his first book. 

 

A smirk pulled at Mick’s lips, and Len forced a neutral expression on his face. “Like I said— _ fiction _ .” 

 

“That’s why at least fifteen of these pages have these drawn on them.” Mick turned the notebook to reveal Len’s sketches. A closeup of a gorgeous eye. A beautifully androgynous face laughing. A pair of delicate wings. “And these are the G-rated ones.”

 

“Stop it!” Len snarled, jerking so hard against the cuffs, it made the headboard move. 

 

“None of our names are in these things,” Mick observed, ignoring Len’s outburst. “You only use the Never Names—Canary, Atom, Steel, the Kid.”

 

“Those are the only names they have,” Len lies. Truth was, it felt weird calling the Lost Boys by real names. Like he was breaking a promise or something. 

 

“So, if I could tell you their real names, you’d believe me enough I could I cuff you without you callin’ the cops?” 

 

Hello, opportunity. “Sure,” Len agreed, ready to confirm whatever stupid names Mick spit out. “You tell me their names, I’ll listen to everything else you have to say.” 

 

Mick didn’t look like he really believed him, but he still leaned back in the chair smugly, closing the notebook in his hand. “Canary, Sara Lance. Atom, Ray Palmer. The Kid, Wally West. Steel, Nate Heywood. Storm, Jefferson Jackson but almost everyone calls him Jax if they don’t call him Storm.” 

 

Len couldn’t breathe. Panic was settling in his chest. There was no way that this man could know that. He’d never written down or told anyone the Lost Boys’ real names. It was impossible. 

 

“How…?” he managed to gasp. 

 

Mick leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. “Because my full name is Michael Rory. And I came a hell of a long way to find you.”

 

Michael Rory...Heatwave. The second in command of the Lost Boys. Len narrowed his eyes. “You realize this is a lot to take in, and almost impossible to believe?” 

 

Mick shrugged, rising to his feet to unlock the cuffs. “Maybe, but that ain’t never stopped you before. From what I remember, the more impossible something was, the more you liked it.”

 

The cuffs opened with a click. Len’s first instinct was to deck Mick and run. The dominant part of him, though--that curious bit that wanted answers, no matter the consequences--stopped him. 

 

“If you really are a Lost Boy,” he said, “and I’m really Peter Pan, which is crazy as we’ve established, why come here now? Why go through all this trouble to find me?”

 

Mick sat on the edge of the bed. “Hook’s finally caught up with you. But instead of taking you, he went after someone else.” Mick reached into his coat and pulled out a file, giving it to Len with a frown. 

 

Nervous, Len flipped open the file. There were maps, lists of names crossed out, clippings about him, reviews on his books. Len frowned. “I don’t understand. These are all about me.”

 

“That’s what I thought, too,” Mick explained. “Look at the byline.”

 

He flipped back through the articles, his eyes widening with each flip. 

 

_ By Barry Allen. _

 

Barry Allen--the literary critic for Central Picture magazine. One of his biggest fans, if his reviews meant anything. He always raved about Len’s books, calling them modern classics and the best take on the world of Peter Pan since its creation. 

 

At the same time, he was Len’s biggest critic. When Len messed up or got lazy, Barry called him out on it just the same. He’d only met him once, back when the first book came out and Len tried to convince him to come back to his and Barry rejected him, but even so, Barry’s reviews were the first ones he read. 

 

“Why Barry Allen? I don’t even know him.”

 

“Yeah, ya do.” Mick flipped to the last page of the file, which had a surveillance picture of Barry sitting in the park.

 

Then, Mick opened the notebook again to one of Len’s sketches and sat it beside the picture. The same eyes, the same smile. Sure, Barry was a little more masculine than Len’s sketches, but there was no denying it. He’d been drawing Barry Allen in his notebook years before he’d written his first book. 

 

“What does this mean?”

 

Mick closed the file. “You know what it means, you’re just too scared to admit it.”

 

If Mick wasn’t a complete wacko...if Len was Peter Pan somehow and this was all part of some magical story… that meant that Barry Allen was Tinkerbell. Or, at least, whoever had the file first thought so.

 

“We need to warn him some crazy person’s after him,” Len said, moving to jump off the bed and run for his phone. Mick grabbed his arm to stop him, a solemn look in his eye.

 

“It’s too late for that. I tried to warn him, too, but I got there too late.”

 

He pulled a picture from the inside pocket of his coat and handed it over. It was another picture of Barry, this time talking to a man with dark blonde hair and a black, leather jacket. His back was to the camera, but Barry was smiling and talking away to the man. 

 

Somehow, deep in his bones, he knew that he was looking at Captain Hook. He threw the picture on the bed. He had to be out of his mind. There was no way he could believe all this. It was fiction.  _ Fiction.  _ Fairies and pirates and magic islands belonged in children’s books, not the real world. 

 

But he could feel himself slowly giving into the idea the longer he stared at the picture, the longer he talked and listened to Mick. “What do I have to do?”

 

A slow smile grew across Mick’s lips. “First things first. You gotta learn how to fly.”

 


	2. Like the ticking crocodile, time is chasing after all of us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably not be regularly scheduled posting considering that I'm about to start my job at Disney World in two weeks (YAY!), but I'm going to try to at least every Sunday.

_**"You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies."** _

**– Peter Pan**

~~~~***~~~~

 

Mick spent the night on his couch that night. Len wasn’t sure why, but he actually felt safer with him there, like he would protect him. He did, however, wake up to the smoke alarm blaring the next morning. He ran into the living room, still in his boxers, only to find Mick in the kitchen, trying to figure out how the stovetop worked.

 

Len barely got to the fire extinguisher in time.

 

“How about,” he said, leading Mick back into the living room, “you let _me_ do the cooking and you can tell me all about Neverland or how you’re going to get me to fly?”

 

Mick snorted. “Thing is stupid. Why can’t you just cook over a fire like a normal person?”

 

Len shook his head as he headed back into the kitchen. “The New York fire marshal frowns upon bonfires in the middle of high-rise apartments. Sorry.”

 

Mick grunted, and Len set to work on making some sandwiches for them. “So. Tell me about myself. Like, before.”

 

“You wrote books about yourself,” Mick replied. “Don’t you know enough?”

 

Len shrugged, spreading mustard across the bread of his sandwich. “I mean, I know stuff from my head. But, if you’re not nuts or a liar, you know me differently. I want to know how you remember me.”

 

Mick settled back in Len’s armchair. “I mean, I knew ya for a long time. We never aged, so we were kids longer than most. But I remember that you were a reckless son of a bitch. And your favorite pastime was messing with people. There was this one time when we were fighting a battle at Slightly Gulch...”

 

“A battle?”

 

“If you could call it that.” Mick shrugged. “Live on an island with the same group of people for a couple hundred years where no one can age, war becomes a game. We would fight with the Natives constantly, and whoever won would take the others hostage and have a party. Then they’d get let go and celebrate with us. I remember that one, though, because the pirates got involved.”

 

Len tried to think back on it all, tried to remember, but like always, the only thing he remembered was warm arms around him and bright light. “I don’t remember any of that.”

 

Mick snorted. “Too bad. They came charging in, catching us unprepared, and I thought, ‘this is it; This is the day the pirates win’. But I’d underestimated how nuts you are. You and Tink disappeared, and next thing we knew, you came riding in on a flying crocodile and chased Hook off, single-handed. Damndest thing.”

 

Len tried to picture him doing that--playing war, fighting pirates, riding crocodiles. It all seemed so amazing and unbelievable. He sighed. “Sounds...not like me at all.”

 

“Well, you grew up and got boring. It happens when magic disappears.”

 

Len looked up from the sandwiches. “Is that why…?”

 

“Why I’m a near fifty-year-old man and not some snot-nose fifteen-year-old? Yeah, when you and Tink left, all the magic left with you, and anyone without a connection to pixie dust started to age. We had a little left, but we split it amongst ourselves. I didn't use any, but some of them were able to keep a bit of youth over the years.”

 

Len swallowed hard, guilt settling in his stomach. “And Hook?”

 

“He’s still the same,” Mick grunted. “Heard that he collected the husk of every dead fairy he could find and harvested the leftover magic to keep him young and strong. Asshole.”

 

Len hummed in agreement, moving the sandwiches to plates and carrying them out into the living room. Mick accepted it with a small smile. 

 

“You know what’s something else I remember?” he said quietly. “ There was a time when the Pixie Dust Grove was full of dancing lights and fairies, but fairies died out over a hundred years ago. Tink was the last, and her magic was the only thing that kept everything running. A few weeks before you disappeared, I was walking around in the woods near the old grove, and I saw the lights again. I thought there were more fairies, so I crept up to see what was happening. Tink was floating above the ground, magic flying off of her and filling the grove. You were sitting at the foot of one of the trees, watching her with the widest eyes while you played that stupid flute of yours.”

 

He shook his head, picking at his food. “I always knew it was you and Tink against the world. You’d choose each other before anyone else. I never thought you’d leave us all behind, though.”

 

Len deflated, taking a nervous bite from his sandwich. “I’m sorry. I wish I knew why.”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Mick said. “All that matters now is getting you to Neverland and fixing things.”

 

Len wasn’t sure how he was supposed to do that. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fight a pirate, save a damsel, and be everything Mick seemed to think he was. The disappointment in his voice pushed him not to give up, though. As he watched Mick practically swallow his sandwich whole, he realized he owed it to him, even if he didn’t remember hurting him.

 

“So,” he spoke up after a few minutes of watching him eat, “flying…”

 

Mick waved him off. “That part’s easy. Got keys to the roof?”

 

Len’s eyes widened. “You are _not_ pushing me off a roof.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“What if it doesn’t work and I hit the pavement?”

 

Mick threw his hands up. “You used to jump off cliffs for the hell of it, and now you’re scared to jump off a little twelve-story building?”

 

Len glared silently, and Mick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, what do _you_ suggest?”

 

\----------

 

Twenty-four hours ago, if someone had told him that he would be in the middle of Central Park, trying to figure out how to fly to Neverland, he would’ve asked for a hit of whatever they were smoking. Now, though…

 

“I feel stupid.”

 

He looked down from where he was crouched on a tree limb at Mick, who was staring back at him. “You look stupid,” he replied. “But if you don’t figure out how to do this, we’re both shit out of luck. Besides, this was _your_ idea.”

 

Len rolled his eyes. “What about pixie dust? That’s a thing, right? Shouldn’t we have some?”

 

“You got any?” Mick scoffed. “The pixie dust trees died out a long time ago. Before you even left. The only way I got there was some stored dust we had left. I used it all, so you gotta do this yourself.”

 

Len threw up his hands, nearly dislodging himself from the branch. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

 

Mick sighed and shook his head. “You got enough dust in your body to power you for the rest of your life. It’s one of the perks of being you. All you gotta do is think’a somethin’ happy and jump!”

 

“Easy for _you_ to say,” he snarled. He wasn’t high enough to get killed, but he was certainly high enough that he’d break a leg if he fell the wrong way. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of something nice--sleeping with Hartley Rathaway, those fantasies he’d had of Mick before he found out he was an asshole, making his first million…

 

He forced himself off the branch. For a second, he was doing it. He was soaring through the air...right before crashing into something hard and warm. He opened his eyes to see Mick scowling up at him straddling his waist.

 

“You did that on purpose.”

 

Len pushed himself to his feet and brushed off his jeans, looking around to make sure no one saw that. “What do you expect? I’m _not_ Peter Pan! I can’t believe I was stupid enough to go along with this.”

 

Mick scampered to his feet. “It would’a worked if you weren’t such a selfish dick!”

 

Len clenched his fists. “If I’m such a selfish dick, then why did you come here?”

 

“Because I didn’t have a choice!” Mick tensed like he’d revealed too much, but Len was too angry to think about that now.

 

He shook his head. “Well, you wasted your time. I’m going home and doing what I should’ve been doing anyway—focusing on my next book tour.”

 

“You can’t just leave!” Mick shouted as Len stormed off.

 

Without looking back, Len flipped him off. “Watch me!”

 

—————

 

Len spent the rest of the day in a funk. Crazy as it all was, he’d _wanted_ Mick to be telling the truth. Sure, the whole situation was nuts, but at least, if it’s been true, he’d have an answer to who he was.

 

His whole life, he’d been haunted by a family he’d never known. Why had no one ever come looking for him? Why had he been abandoned? Was there no one out there who loved him?

 

The possibility that his answers could be found so easily, that someone had come that far to find him...the thought that someone out there loved him so much was intoxicating. It was prettier answer than the truth he knew he needed to accept—he was abandoned because there was no one out there to miss him. The Snarts were the only people who ever gave a shit about him. And likely were the only ones who ever would.

 

He stood alone in the one place he always found solace—the roof of his apartment building. The stars twinkled overhead, but all Len could see were the two stars above him, so close together it almost looked like they were holding hands.

 

“Thought I’d find you up here.”

 

He turned to see Lisa approaching from the stairs, a thermos in one hand and coat in the other. She handed them to him.

 

“Drink some cocoa, you psycho. You’ll catch your death out here.”

 

He accepted the gifts with a strained smile and turned his attention back to the stars. Lisa sighed.

 

“Okay. Something is eating at you. Is it that hunky guy you ran off with last night? Did he hurt you? Because we can press charges and own his ass.”

 

Len laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “No...well, yeah, it has to do with him, but not the way you think. He...he knew me, Lise. From before.”

 

He looked at Lisa, who was staring back, wide-eyed. “Like, _before_ before? As a child?”

 

Len nodded. “He was my friend, or at least he thought it was me. I’m not so sure.”

 

Lisa sat on the edge of the roof and motioned for him to continue. He joined her on the ledge. “I don’t think he’s crazy or lying--and if you’d heard what he was saying last night, you’d think I’d lost my mind just saying that--but I also think that maybe he has the wrong person. He talks about me like I was this...this amazing human being, and he expects so much out of me. That’s just not me.”

 

Lisa pursed her lips. “I always thought you were an amazing human being.” Len looked to her, and she shrugged. “It’s the truth. Why do you think I became your agent? I believe in you. I always knew you were special, and that you were meant to be great. You just need to believe that yourself.”

 

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a necklace. It was rustic and old--tied up with what looked like twine and pieces of vines--with a little pan flute attached to the bottom.

 

“I was going through some old stuff a few weeks ago, and I found this. It was the only thing you had besides the clothes on your back when Mom found you.” She handed it to him, and all Len could do was stare at it.

 

He’d forgotten all about it over the years, but the pan flute was so natural in his hand. He brought it to his lips and played a few notes, muscle memory striking him.

 

Lisa let out a low whistle. “I didn’t know you could play it. I just thought it was a fashion statement.”

 

Pan. Wasn’t Peter Pan called that because of his flute? He remembered Mick’s story about playing Tink a song on his flute.

 

“Thanks, Lise,” he whispered. “I think you’ve helped with my problem in more ways than you think.”

 

She smiled and kissed his hairline. “I’m always here for you. I’m your sister, no matter who you before you became Leonard Snart.”

 

She stood up and walked back inside a minute or two later, which Len was glad for. He didn’t want her to see the stupidity that came next for him. Sighing, he stepped up onto the ledge.

 

 _Think of a wonderful thought_. He pictured the first time he’d met Lisa. She was a baby, and he’d held her close against his chest and realized that he didn’t need to know who he’d been before. He had a little sister, and that was the most important adventure he’d ever had.

 

Taking a deep breath, Len stepped off the ledge.

 

\----------

 

Mick had been walking up to Snart’s apartment to...apologize? No, that wasn’t right. He didn’t have anything to apologize for. This whole situation was _his_ fault in the first place.

 

No, he came for another shot. Another try at succeeding. He didn’t have many chances left. He needed to get Peter Pan airborne and on his way to Neverland before midnight on the third day. It was already the second day, meaning he was on one hell of a time crunch.

 

The door to the apartment was unlocked when he got there, so he let himself in, just in time to see Snart fall past the window, screaming. “Shit!” he yelled, running to the window. He cursed himself. If Pan died, there would be no way to save the Lost Boys.

 

He waited a second. Then two. He prayed that it worked, whatever Snart had in his head. After a minute, something sour settled in. It hadn't worked. He'd been wrong about the pixie dust inside of him being enough. Now, he was trapped on Earth while Hook did god-knows-what. He fell back on the chair and shook his head.

 

He didn't even notice a body start to float up into view of the window. He did hear a knock on the glass, though. When he looked up, all that child-like wonder he thought he'd abandoned swelled in him once again. Snart was floating outside the window, wide-eyed and terrified but smiling like an idiot all the same. Hope was back. 

 

Peter Pan was flying once again. Now, they just needed to get back to Neverland.

 

\----------

 

Barry’s head was throbbing when he woke up. He didn’t remember much of anything, except that he and Ralph went out for drinks after work. It’d been a rough day at the magazine. Barry, being the literary critic, spent the entire day getting through three coming-of-age romance novels up for review in preparation for the next ‘No Longer Neverland’ book being released.

 

He would never tell anyone, but the Neverland books were his favorites. Talk about a _real_ coming-of-age romance. Peter Pan growing up and realizing that Tinkerbell was the one he really loved? Tink giving up her wings so that they could spend their lives together? _That_ was romance. He couldn’t wait to read what Leonard Snart had for his readers in the final installment. There were rumors that Captain Hook would return to take his final revenge on them. Barry could barely focus on the books he was assigned as his mind wandered to the possibilities.

 

Ralph, the crime writer for the magazine and the closest thing Barry had to a best friend, had to practically tear him from the desk at the end of the day for drinks. Mostly because Barry was forcing words out of himself at that point. They talked about everything except work. Over the night, Barry downed 3 beers and a shot of tequila and had to Uber home. After stopping in front of his apartment door, though, everything went fuzzy.

 

He forced his eyes open, thinking that maybe he’d passed out in the hall or something, but he wasn’t on the floor. He was in a bed--and not even _his_ bed. In fact, he wasn’t even in his apartment building. The room he was lying in was lavish, elegant with wooden carvings of mythical creatures, like fairies and mermaids, on it. The blanket over him was red velvet. The pillows were feathered.

 

And his ankle was chained to the footboard.  

 

“What the--?”

 

“Sorry about the chain,” a voice cut through the silence of the room. Barry jumped, his eyes locked on the corner it came from. “I didn’t want you overreacting and fluttering off before we had a chance to talk.”

 

“Hunter?”

 

His next door neighbor was sitting in a chair, one leg crossed over the other. Instead of his usual outfits--a jacket, glasses, and pair of slacks--, he was wearing a black tunic and black pants, with a blood red long coat and hat with a large gray feather sticking out the top.

 

Barry frowned. “Are you dressed like a pirate?”

 

Hunter looked down at his clothes like he hadn’t even noticed what he was wearing. “Yes. As charming as the clothes on Earth are, I find myself much more comfortable in my own.”

 

“On Earth? What are you talking about? What am I doing here? Did I pass out drunk outside my apartment?”

 

Hunter rose from his seat with a sigh. “You did pass out, but it was more from the drugs I injected into you than the alcohol.”

 

Barry startled, his fists clenching. Hunter _drugged_ him? He’d always seemed like such a good neighbor, always waving ‘good morning’ to Barry and making sure he got home safe. Was it all so that he could gain his trust for whatever kidnapping shit that was going on?

 

“What do you want?”

 

Hunter approached the bed and sat on the edge by Barry’s feet. “You can calm down,” he assured, touching his ankle. “I have no plans to hurt you. I have no fight with you. At this moment, you’re just a means to an end--bait for a bigger fish. After I get what I want, you’ll be set free, Miss Bell, in more ways than one.”

 

Barry’s confusion only grew. “Miss Bell? What? What the hell are you talking about?”

 

Hunter’s lips quirked. “You can drop the act. I know you remember the truth, Tinkerbell.”

 

His eyes widened at the name. Then, it all clicked. The outfit, the carvings on the wall, ‘Miss Bell’. “Hunter, I need you to listen to me very carefully,” he said slowly. “Peter Pan is not real. I’m not Tinkerbell, you’re not Captain Hook, and Neverland doesn’t exist.”

 

He expected some kind of angry reaction, like the man’s bubble burst, but instead, Hunter just chuckled. “Fine, we’ll play this game. I _am_ Captain Hook, or at least, I used to be. I haven’t been called that in far too long, ever since I started chasing you and your little boy toy across the realms. I almost had you both, until you used your magic to blow the pair of you apart on Earth. Do you know how long it took me to find you? A fairy reborn as a human.”

 

He reached out to touch Barry’s face, but Barry flinched the second he came too close.

 

Hunter pulled away with a sigh. “At first, I was going to seek out Peter Pan. It would’ve brought me overwhelming glee to torture the information I need out of him. Over the years, it became obvious who he was hiding as--I mean, he writes books about himself! How much more arrogant can he be?”

 

He scooted further up the bed, and Barry could see mania swirling in his eyes. “But then, as I was planning my revenge one day, I saw the most beautiful face in the crowd of pedestrians. One with an unnatural glow.”

 

He touched Barry’s arm, and Barry swallowed hard. “It’s just the moisturizer I use, I swear.”

 

Hunter chuckled. “I followed, made sure to have the apartment beside yours, and befriended you. You’re the same fiery spirit you were, way back when.”

 

He wasn’t sure what Hunter was about to try, but he knew that he didn’t want it. He pulled his arm away, and Hunter sighed. “Still caught in the brat’s trap, I see. That’ll make this more difficult. Your loyalty to Pan was always your downfall, Miss Bell.”

 

Barry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His neighbor was absolutely insane. And to think, he’d thought he was such a nice guy. He was going to ask him to dinner one of these days.

 

Then, he looked at Hunter’s other hand. He always wore gloves, and Barry never thought about why. Now, he could see that he had no hand on his left wrist. Instead, a steel hook was in its place. He threw himself away from it, tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. The chain around his ankle kept him from getting too far away.

 

Hunter looked to his hook like he’d forgotten it was there. A smile grew across his lips. “Don’t worry your pretty head about this. I don’t plan on using it on you. It’s specifically for ripping out Pan’s throat.”

 

Like that was supposed to make Barry feel better. _Oh, I’m not going to kill_ you _with it. Just someone else._

 

He swallowed hard. “People are going to come looking for me,” he warned. “My friends, other neighbors, my family.”

 

“They’ll never find you,” Hunter replied, slipping his hook around the chain and dragging Barry closer to the bed. “You’re so far from home. The only person who would even think to look here is the exact person I’m trying to lure.”

 

He grabbed Barry with his non-hooked hand and dragged him back up on the bed. Barry was slung forward into the man’s arms, and he grabbed his shoulders to keep from keeling over. There was something in Hunter’s eyes, the way they lingered on him, raked over his body, darkened as he stared into Barry’s, that made him antsy. He wanted to get away.

 

“Still so beautiful, so powerful,” Hunter whispered, dragging the rounded side of his hook against Barry’s cheek. “All those years, watching you being wasted at the side of that child who never once realized what he held. The heart of a fairy...the most powerful magic in the realms.”

 

Barry watched the hook move uncomfortably close to his skin. He swallowed hard. “Hunter, stop. You’re freaking me out.”

 

Surprisingly, he obliged, removing the hook and moving Barry back onto the bed. He rose to his feet. “Dinner will be served soon. I’ll bring it in and release your cuff when it’s time.”

 

He exited the room, leaving Barry shaken and confused.

 

Hours passed before he spoke to anyone else. Barry curled back on the bed and dozed off, only to be woken by the clatter and clanks of silverware and platters on a wooden table. He opened one eye and was surprised to find a long, mahogany table now in the center of the quarters.

 

Something was touching his leg, stroking up and down his calf, and he knew it was Hunter. Sighing, he opened his eyes and sat up, glaring at his captor.

 

Hunter smiled almost lovingly back. “I made your favorite--lasagna. I remember you telling me about it once, that time you invited me into your apartment for dinner when I first moved in. Your mother made it for you every Friday night, and your whole family would eat it while you watched whatever movie you’d rented.”

 

It disturbed Barry that he knew so much about his life, but what disturbed him more was that he’d _trusted him_ enough to tell him all those things. True to his word, Hunter unlocked the cuff around his ankle and, like they were in some pirate/lady romance novel, held out a hand to help him off the bed and escort him to the table. He noticed that his hook was different—now black with a blue gem decorating the base.

 

Barry decided to play along. Let Hunter parade him or feed him or whatever, but then, when the time came, get away. They couldn’t be too far from New York City, right?

 

He sat at the seat to the left of the head of the table, which Hunter took. He served Barry a huge piece of lasagna before cutting a piece himself. Barry looked down the table with a frown.

 

“Where’s everyone else?”

 

When he looked back at Hunter, he was giving an ‘aren’t you cute?’ look. “My crew hasn’t earned the right to dine with such special company.” He shook his head. “Consider this the date that you always wanted to ask me on, and I pretended not to know.”

 

Barry growled. “I wouldn’t go on a date with you now if you were the last man on Earth. You’ve drugged and kidnapped me!”

 

A smirk pulled at Hunter’s lips. “There’s that temper I remember. I’d feared that now you’re human, it would be lost. I’m pleased to see you’re just as passionate as always.”

 

Barry did have a temper. He’d had one since he was a small child. Not a violent one, thank god, but an aggressive one that often pushed him to make rash decisions.

 

There was a knife beside his plate. He grabbed it. It wasn’t a fancy knife or anything, but it was sharp enough that he could use it as a weapon. The second his fingers wrapped around the handle, though, Hunter made a move of his own.

 

Barry gasped as Hunter’s hooked hand came down around his wrist, pinning it to the table. He clicked his tongue and shook his finger.

 

“That’s not very nice,” he scolded. “Especially when I went through all this trouble to make you such a nice meal."

 

“Please,” he whispered, “I just want to go home.”

 

Hunter reached over to take his chin between his fingers. “I know. But you are home. The sooner you accept that, the easier this whole ordeal will be on us.”

 

He released Barry’s wrist from the hook and pulled away. He opened his mouth to say more, but a knock on the cabin door interrupted him.

 

Hunter’s face turned murderous. “WHAT?” he screamed as the door creaked open and a fearful pirate stuck his head in the cabin. Barry noticed the fading light from the sunset peeking through the door. So, it led straight to the deck.

 

“I’m sorry, Cap’n,” the man said shakily. “I know you demanded you not be disturbed…”

 

“And yet,” Hunter growled, standing up so fast his chair fell to the floor, “you took it upon yourself to do so anyway, against my express orders.”

 

Barry had never seen anyone look so afraid in his entire life. The poor man at the door was shaking so bad, he thought he might wet himself. Hunter approached him slowly.

 

“It’s just…” the man stammered, “you said you wanted to know if things changed. The prisoner…”

 

Hunter grabbed the man by the throat and raised his hook so the tip was almost brushing his eye. Barry tensed, unsure what was happening.

 

Hunter looked back at him and sighed. “See what you did, Scudder?” he sighed. “You’ve gotten my guest all worked up. Now whatever you have to say better be good, or I’ll have to clean my good hook.”

 

Scudder swallowed hard. “The kid...the little bit of dust in him is starting to kick up.”

 

“Don’t you think that may have something to do with the fact the fairy who gave it to him is sitting _three decks above him?_ ”

 

Scudder flinched. “It’s not just that! The island! The flowers are blooming! The mermaids are singing!”

 

Hunter released the man with a huff. “Well, I guess those Lost Boys are good for something.” He turned back to Barry. “Excuse my rudeness. I have urgent matters to attend to. I strongly suggest you stay here. Oh, and don’t try to escape. It won't end well for you.”

 

He strode out of the room, Scudder tripping after him. Barry sat in silence, thinking over the conversation. There was someone else being held captive on the ship. Was Hunter some kind of serial killer or human trafficker? If so, what did that mean for him?

 

He needed to get out. He needed to get back to New York and call the police. He stood up and ran over to the window. All he could see was open ocean. He cursed. The only way out was probably through a lifeboat. Hunter was distracted, so he wouldn’t notice Barry disappearing for a while.

 

All he had to do was get out the door, sneak across the deck, get in a lifeboat, and get away. When he peeked out, all bravado melted.

 

There were pirates all over the deck, doing all manner of chores. None of them were really paying attention, though, which he took advantage of. Taking a deep breath, he lurked around the edge of the deck, eyes darting around to make sure he wasn’t spotted. The lifeboats were at the other end of the ship, thankfully away from any of the crewmen.

 

He ducked down behind some barrels when one of the men turned his way and held his breath. He heard footsteps approaching his hiding place.

 

“I don’t get this shit,” he heard one of the men say. “Pan’s gone. I thought that’s what he always wanted. Now, we gotta bring him back?”

 

Another man grunted. “Cap’n says that Pan and the fairy know something. Something that’ll make him the King of Neverland or somethin’.”

 

“And what is that? All the Pixie Dust trees are gone.”

 

There was a pause. “You didn’t hear it from me,” the other man hissed, “but I heard from one of the Natives we caught a few months back that there’s more dust on the island.”

 

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

“I’m serious. No one knows where, but I’d bet my boots that Pan and the fairy do. There wasn’t a thing on that island they didn’t know about.”

 

The first man hummed. “Guess that’s why he’s playing so nice with the fairy now, huh?”

 

“Probably. You know Cap’n. The first chance he gets for revenge, he’ll gut ‘em both.”

 

Barry let out a shuddered breath. He needed to get out of there. He crawled along the deck, still hidden by the barrels, and moved closer and closer to the lifeboats. He didn’t even notice his foot snagged a fishing net until it was too late.

 

His foot pulled, the net moved, and the barrels on top tumbled loudly to the deck. When he looked back, the two pirates he’d been eavesdropping on glaring murderously at him. The other pirates had stopped what they were doing as well, their attention now firmly focused on Barry.

 

Shit.

 

Before any of the pirates could make their move, he jumped to his feet and ran. He wasn’t going to make it to the lifeboats now. He knew that. But he also didn’t want to get caught by the pirates. He had no idea where he thought he was going, just that if he was caught, all chances of getting away would disappear. He ran towards the bow near the figurehead and slid to a stop.

 

He’d cornered himself.

 

He slowly turned. All the pirates were gathered at the end of the deck, weapons drawn. The one who’d been talking stepped forward. “Come on down, lad. The only thing you’ll find in off this boat is death.”

 

He moved even closer, and Barry stumbled away. He didn’t even realize that the railing was right behind him until he was tumbling backward falling straight into the water. The sun had already started to disappear, casting dark shadows into the water.

 

He fought and swam his way to the surface, breaking through the water with a loud gasp. He heard yelling from the ship, followed by another body falling over the side. It landed with a splash to Barry’s right, and he saw it was the pirate he’d been eavesdropping on. There was a stab wound through his gut.

 

Barry blanched at the sight, tearing his eyes away to look up at the bow. Hunter was leaning over the railing, a tight smile on his lips. “Now, didn’t I tell you not to try and escape?”

 

“Fuck you!” Barry yelled back.

 

Hunter just laughed. “You’re lucky I’m a generous man, or else I’d leave you here in the middle of the Never Sea.”

 

Barry was about to yell back when he heard something echoing over the water. Ticking, like a clock. He frowned. When he looked back up at Hunter, he’d gone pale and was staring fearfully out at the water.

 

“Get me a line, now!” he ordered. The pirates left on deck began rushing around, one practically throwing a coil of rope into Hunter’s hand. He lowered it into the water, just in front of Barry.

 

He drifted away from it.

 

“Grab the rope!” Hunter ordered.

 

“No!” he replied. “I heard what they said up there--you’re just going to kill me anyway!”

 

The ticking started to get louder. Something was niggling at the back of Barry’s head, something important. He couldn’t place it, though. He looked back at the water behind him. The body that had been floating beside him had already drifted a few yards away. Suddenly, there was a huge splash. In the darkness, Barry couldn’t tell what had happened through the dark, but when the water settled, the body was gone.

 

He heard Hunter curse. “If you take this rope,” he said, “I swear that no harm will come to you on this ship. That monster won’t make the same promise.”

 

Barry weighed his options. On one hand, there was a crazy guy who thought he was a pirate with a hook for a hand. On the other, there was a huge, ticking monster coming at him to eat him.

 

A black form surfaced. Barry’s eyes widened. It was the biggest crocodile he’d ever seen in his life, its tail swishing back and forth with each clock tick. The ticking...the crocodile...Captain Hook…

 

The realization it was all true almost hit him as hard as the knowledge that he was going to die if he stayed there. He grabbed the rope. The beast shot off at him. Barry squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting the last thing he saw to be the gaping mouth of an enormous crocodile.

 

Then, there were arms around him. He opened his eyes just as the ship lurched to one side. Looking down, he saw the creature had headbutted the hull. He turned to see Hunter holding him, pulling him away from the edge. His eyes were full of hate and anger as he glared down at the disappearing crocodile.

 

Once it was gone, he let go.

 

“Take him below with the prisoner,” Hunter ordered. He looked at Barry with disappointment. “It seems I can’t trust him to stay put until my plans are finished.”

 

One of the pirates took him by the arm and led him below decks. Barry just followed silently, knowing that whatever fate he had on this ship was nothing compared to what he’d just seen.

 


	3. Clap if you believe

_“Absence makes the heart grow fonder… or forgetful.”_

_―   **J.M. Barrie**_

_**~~~~***~~~~** _

 

Len couldn’t believe it. A little over twelve hours ago, he’d actually  _ flown. _ He was still buzzing over it, even as he fixed himself and Mick some noodles for lunch. 

 

“I could always do that?” he asked excitedly. Mick, who was sitting on the edge of the counter drinking a beer, nodded. 

 

“Sometimes, it was hard getting you  _ not  _ to. We couldn’t fly like you, so it was fucking annoying for the rest of us.”

 

Len let out an uncharacteristic giggle. “I get why I did. It’s...it’s exhilarating.”

 

Mick hummed. “So, remember anything?”

 

Len furrowed his brow. When he’d flown, it was like muscle memory. He knew how to go up and down, how to turn, how to land. While he’d slept the night before, he had dreamed something. He was sitting in a grove of trees, playing his pan flute. Overheard, a bright light floated gracefully. 

 

He opened his eyes with a sigh. “Only what you told me about Tinkerbell in the grove. Not much else. But the flying’s a good start, right?” 

 

Mick grunted. “It’ll have to do. The rest might come into place when we hit Neverland.”

 

Len carried his pot over to the sink and poured the contents into a strainer. “When do we have to go? A week? A month?”

 

“Tonight.”

 

Len nearly dropped his pot. “I  _ just  _ learned how to fly, and now you want me to just charge in and take on Captain Hook? With  _ zero _ preparation?”

 

Mick shrugged. “Honestly, I’m hoping everything’s just muscle memory for you. If what I’ve heard is right, though, Hook is making his move tomorrow. We need to be there before then.”

 

Len sat the pot on the counter and stared at Mick. “I can’t do that. I don’t know what to do. I can’t even remember Neverland. How am I supposed to take on Hook?”

 

“I’ll be there,” Mick replied. “Tink’ll be there, even if she doesn’t remember either. You’ve never needed more than that before.”

 

“And what about Lisa?” he asked. “How am I supposed to explain why I disappeared in the middle of the biggest book tour of my career?”

 

“Tell the truth?” Mick suggested. Len glared his way, and he shrugged. “Just a thought. Tell her you’re eloping or somethin’, I don’t care. People you used to drag off to Neverland never gave an explanation. They just left.”

 

Len rolled his eyes. “Didn’t Wendy’s mom hang around the window every night, waiting for her kids to get home ‘cuz they just disappeared?”

 

“What’s your point?”

 

He threw his hands up. “I need an excuse...something believable that she can’t say ‘no’ to.”

 

“Who can’t say ‘no’ to?” 

 

Both men jumped as the front door closed with a snap. Lisa was standing at the door, eyes wide, like she was waiting for an answer. Len opened and closed his mouth a half dozen times before Mick decided to step in. 

 

“We gotta head out of town tonight. One of our friends is in trouble, which is why I came to find Len. I didn’t know his memory was gone, but it would mean a lot if he could come out and see him.”

 

It was a very good lie, with enough truth to sell it. Lisa thought about it. “Okay. I’ll go back to my apartment, pack a bag, and I’ll call the tour manager to request a push back on the dates.”

 

“No!” Len accidentally shouted. Lisa startled at the outburst, and he flinched. Great, now she was going to think he was getting rid of her or something. He backtracked. “I mean, not that I don’t want you there, but I think...I think this is something I need to do alone.” 

 

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Alone...with him?” She pointed at Mick. Len nodded. 

 

“Exactly.” 

 

She stared at him, then Mick, and then him again. “And you’re  _ not  _ banging?”

 

“NO!” they both exclaimed. 

 

Lisa held her hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. Just...you know you can call me if you need me, right, Jerk?” 

 

He nodded. A bright smile stretched across her lips. “So, what’s for dinner? Because I came all this way, so there better be something good cooking.”

 

The rest of the evening was spent eating dinner with Lisa and a Lost Boy. Lisa, being the loving and nosy sister she was, pried and poked at Mick, trying to get answers about Len’s past. Mick, to his credit, gave her only enough to satisfy her without getting into the Peter Pan thing. 

 

Around nine o’clock, Lisa said her goodbyes, reminding them once again that, if they needed her, she would be there. Once she was out the door, Mick looked to Len. 

 

“It’s time.” 

 

Len grabbed a leather jacket from his closet, pulled on his combat boots, and, with a frown, slid his Swiss Army knife in his pocket. Neither of them really knew what was going to happen, after all.

 

Feeling ready, he walked back out to where Mick was waiting. “How are you getting back?” he asked. “I thought you were all out.”

 

“I am,” he agreed. “You’re gonna carry me.” 

 

Len blinked. “How the hell am I supposed to do that? You’re like two of me!”

 

Mick narrowed his eyes, offended. “If ya hold my hand, the dust in you should affect me, and I’ll be able to fly, too.” 

 

Len frowned, still not sold on the whole thing. Mick rolled his eyes and strode over to the window. “We ain’t got time for you to start doubting yourself now. Now,” he threw open the window and stepped up on the ledge, “get your ass out this window so we can get going.”

 

Len rolled his eyes. “Fine. If you fall, though, I’m not catching you.”

 

He approached the window slowly and blew out a nervous breath. Flying a bit around his building was one thing. Flying all the way to a magical land was something completely different. It was a long trip, and Len was scared the magic wouldn’t hold. 

 

Mick took his hand and yanked him up on the ledge with him. “Think’a whatever you thought of before. I don’t wanna die before Hook gets the chance to kill us.”

 

“Ha,” Len fake laughed. “Ha. Ha. Just...come on.”

 

He thought about Lisa. He thought about teaching her to ride a bike. About telling her stories when she couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t even noticed he was floating off the ledge until he heard Mick curse. 

 

He looked down to see the street below right under his feet. Mick was floating beside him, just like he’d said. He grinned like an idiot. There’s no way this would ever get old. Focusing on every bit of energy in his body, he shot off into the sky, up to the stars.

 

It was all muscle memory. He knew exactly where he was going. Home. 

 

He was so distracted by flying, he didn’t even notice Lisa standing on the street below, staring slack-jawed as he headed for the second star to the right. 

 

\----------

 

Describing the flight to Neverland was impossible. The best way Len could was to say there was a rainbow of light that nearly blinded him, followed by darkness and roaring in his ears like a wind tunnel. He wasn’t sure if he blacked out at some point, or if he and Mick just floated endlessly for some time, but eventually, after the longest and shortest time of his life, he opened his eyes again. 

 

The smell of sea air hit his nose. Below him, the clouds danced. The sun was peeking out over the top of them, and Len wondered how differently time moved in Neverland than on Earth. Finally, there was a break in the clouds, and Len saw it.

 

Neverland. 

 

The island was exactly as he pictured it--Mermaid Lagoon on the east side on the island, opposite of Neverpeak. The Jolly Roger was anchored on the south shore. There were other landmarks he recognized--the Never Woods, the old Native encampment, Marooners Rock--but he was focused on Hook’s ship, the place Barry Allen would be. 

 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, looking to Mick. The Lost Boy looked pale and solemn like he was dreading what was about to happen. 

 

“Land on the beach at the southern shore,” he said, not bothering to answer Len’s question. “The Lost Boys’ll be waiting for us there.”

 

Len gave him a short nod and headed that way. He was a little surprised that the lookouts on the Jolly Roger didn’t notice them--if he remembered correctly from the story, Peter Pan and Wendy were spotted almost immediately and nearly shot out of the sky by cannon balls. 

 

The ship stayed silent, though, leaving Len to wonder what was so important that they left themselves unprotected. They landed near silently on the shore, and Len looked around at the jungle behind them. 

 

“When are they supposed to be meeting us?” he asked. Mick didn’t answer. Instead, he let go of Len’s hand and stepped away. Something sour filled Len’s stomach, something he’d suspected deep down but was too stupid to act on. 

 

He bit his lip. “They’re not coming, are they?”

 

Mick raised his eyes to look at Len. “No. They don’t even know you’re here.”

 

Len nodded. “So, if we aren’t meeting the Lost Boys, there’s only one other person on this island who would go through this much trouble for me.” 

 

Mick didn’t reply. He just took another step away and looked out at the water. 

 

“Very good, Pan.” The voice was accompanied by the sound of moving underbrush. He turned to see a dark blonde man in a long red coat and large hat walk out of the trees. The sunrise lit up the hook hand like an expensive jewel. 

 

“It looks like even your own people have given up on you,” Hook taunted. “Look at you--the once ageless King of Neverland. Now, you’re even older than I am. Seems I have everything of yours now--control of the island, your Lost Boys, even your lovely fairy and I had a pleasant evening last night.”

 

He was just trying to get Len riled up, but Len was already so betrayed and angry. He was beyond cool and level-headed. “If that was true, you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of sending Mick to collect me. What did you offer him in return for his betrayal?”

 

Hook laughed. “What makes you think I offered him anything? After you left, poor Heatwave was thrust in charge. Most of the boys in his charge either died or came to my side. I would almost say that, after me, Heatwave hates you worse than anyone on this island.”

 

“That’s enough,” Mick growled, turning to glare at the captain. “I want what you promised.”

 

The humor fell from Hook’s face, and he rolled his eyes. “Mardon! Walker! Bring out the prisoners!” 

 

The underbrush shuffled again, and this time, a whole group of pirates stepped out, led by two men with their arms tied behind their backs. The first one was a face he’d only seen in pictures--young, clever, and angry. 

 

Storm. Jefferson ‘Jax’ Jackson. The second Mick saw him, his whole body relaxed with relief. 

 

The other man was the one who’d really caught Len’s eye, though. His hazel green eyes, soft thick hair, that glow around him he didn’t even seem to notice. 

 

When Barry Allen saw him, his eyes widened. “Don’t!” he warned, fighting against the pirate—Mardon, Len assumed—holding him. “Get out of here! Run--he’s going to kill you!” 

 

Hook laughed, striding over to kneel at Barry’s side. “Same silly fairy. Always willing to die to protect him. That won’t work this time, though. You see, I need  _ both  _ of you to help me with a little problem I’m having. First, however, I have some business with the Lost Boys to attend to.”

 

He nodded at Walker, who cut the rope off Jax’s hands and yanked him to his feet. He pushed him forward. 

 

Hook raised an eyebrow. “I assume our business is settled?”

 

“You gonna leave us alone?” 

 

Hook nodded. 

 

Mick’s eyes flickered to Len and back. “Yeah. We’re good.” He motioned for Jax to come on, and the two Lost Boys ran into the woods, disappearing almost immediately. 

 

“That’s a dirty trick,” Barry said with a sneer. “Using their loyalty in each other against them.”

 

Hook ran his fingers through Barry’s hair, making him squirm uncomfortably. 

 

“Leave him alone!” Len growled, running to push the pirate away.

 

Smirking, Hook let out a sharp whistle, hand still in Barry’s hair, and more pirates appeared from the trees. Len skidded to a stop and swallowed hard--there was no way he could take on all of the pirates and get away. He focused on the magic inside of him, thinking maybe he could fly away, or fly at them and take them by surprise, but the warmth and flutter that usually came with it were gone. He frowned, and Hook laughed. 

 

“Trying to fly?” he asked, rising to his feet. “Rory didn’t tell you that, after flying so far and without Tinkerbell to replenish your connection to the dust, it’ll take hours for you to be able to fly again?”

 

Len sneered. “He failed to mention that.” 

 

Hook fake pouted, and two pirates came over to grab Len by his arms. “Look,” he said calmly, “whatever you want from us, we can’t give you. I don’t know anything. I barely remembered how to get here.” 

 

Hook’s fingers twisted deeper into Barry’s hair, making him cry out in pain as the pirate dragged him to his feet. “Oh, I’ll get it. There are ways to get what I want.” 

 

Len hated the dark grin on Hook’s face as the pirates dragged him off towards a longboat on the other side of the shore. Hook led Barry personally, which made him want to punch him even more.

 

He didn’t know why he was so angry seeing Hook with his hand all over Barry. There was a protective, jealous instinct roaring in his chest, and he could only assume it had to do with both the disgusted look on Barry’s face and some repressed memories of their time before. 

 

Both captives were forced into the boat, followed by Hook and three other pirates--Mardon, Walker, and a skinny, creepy looking one whose name he didn’t care enough to find out. 

 

The pirates rowed them off the shore, towards Mermaid Lagoon. Barry and Len were set in the center of the boat, Hook behind them and the pirates in front. Len turned to his fellow prisoner.

 

“Hey,” he whispered, “are you okay?”

 

Barry snorted. “Define ‘okay’. I just found out Neverland is real, my neighbor is actually Captain Hook, and he drugged me and brought me here because he thinks I’m a reincarnation of Tinkerbell or something.”

 

Len frowned. “So, you don’t remember anything?”

 

Barry gaped at him for a second. “Oh, god. Not you, too. Why is it always the really attractive ones who are nuts?”

 

“Hey,” he hissed, “I risked a lot coming out here to save you. I barely even  _ know  _ you, so a little gratitude would be nice.”

 

Barry rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry. Thank you very much for getting yourself captured too so we can both now be led to our deaths. My hero.” 

 

Len narrowed his eyes. “Look, you little--” 

 

“I hate to interrupt this little quarrel,” Hook said suddenly, leaning between them, “really, I do. But I think your energy would be better spent trying to remember what I want and where it is. Otherwise, this experience is only going to become more...unpleasant.”   

 

He nodded ahead, and Len focused finally on where they were heading. A sick feeling took over. 

 

Marooners Rock.

 

\----------

 

Once they arrived inside the cave beneath the Marooners Rock, a realization hit Barry. He remembered everything he’d ever read about Peter Pan--the mermaids, the crocodile, the Natives. 

 

Marooners Rock was where Captain Hook took Princess Tiger Lily to torture her into giving up Peter Pan’s hideout. There was a rock face in the center of the cave with shackles hanging off it, and Barry swallowed hard. 

 

“I have a bad feeling about this.” 

 

“No shit,” Leonard Snart agreed. He remembered the first time he’d met Leonard Snart. It wasn’t long after his first book was released. Barry was an up and coming critic and went to a publicity event. He’d already finished the first book and was in love. He’d approached Leonard in hopes of talking to him about it. 

 

The second he’d laid eyes on him, Leonard lit up. He flirted with Barry, bought him drinks, and wooed him in so many ways that Barry was sure he was going to end up going home with him. Then, Leonard excused himself to the bathroom, and the bartender at the event told him that Leonard had hooked up with at least twenty people at the party, and one of those had been in the bathroom before he’d met Barry. 

 

Needless to say, Barry didn’t like the idea of being a notch in a bedpost and turned Leonard down when he came back. 

 

Now, they were about to face death together. 

 

The longboat docked on the edge of the cliff, and Hook climbed out. “Before this becomes too messy,” he said, “I’m going to give you both one chance to help me and yourselves. Where is the Hidden Grove?” 

 

Barry frowned deeply. He didn’t know anything about a grove or Neverland. He turned to Len, who seemed equally confused. When he looked back at Barry, he drew back. 

 

“Why the hell are you looking at  _ me  _ for?” 

 

Barry shrugged. “You’re the author. Shouldn’t you know this stuff?” 

 

“You’re the fairy!” 

 

“I am not!” 

 

“Enough!” Hook shouted over them. “It seems that I was mistaken. I believed that bringing the pair of you together would jog your memories. Unfortunately, now we have to do this the hard way.”

 

\----------

 

The pirates dragged them out of the boats, Barry thrashing and fighting the whole time as they were led to the center rock. 

 

“You son of a bitch!” he yelled at the captain as the pirate holding him locked the shackles around his wrists and lowered him into the water. Len’s pirate did the same, only he was given a rougher treatment. There was enough give to the chains that their hands hung beside their faces, but not enough to escape.

 

The water was only up to their calves, but Len knew better than anyone how quickly that would change once the tide started moving in. Hook sighed and sauntered over to kneel on the rock beside them. He was just close enough that he could reach out and brush his knuckles across Barry’s face in a near lover’s caress. Barry glared daggers.

 

“Don’t look at me like that, Miss Bell,” he said. “If you and Pan had only cooperated with me, I wouldn’t have to take such extreme measures.”

 

If his hands were free, Len was positive that Barry would’ve strangled Hook. “You promised I wouldn’t get hurt, Hunter. You lied!” he spat, his face turning scarlet. 

 

Hook clicked his tongue. “If you remember, I said that you wouldn’t find harm on the Jolly Roger. Marooners Rock, on the other hand…” 

 

He shrugged, and Barry lunged at him like he could get free of the rock and kill the pirate with his bare hands. Hook just laughed and turned his attention to Len. All humor melted away. 

 

“You really are a selfish little boy, aren’t you?” he said. “You abandoned those who depended on you because you refused to give up any of the power you hoarded your whole life. The pixie dust, the last fairy…” his eyes flickered to Barry for a second, a possessive look in them, “and now, they’re the ones paying for it.”

 

The water had already started to rise to their stomachs. 

 

“I don’t know,” Len said. “I don’t know where the grove is you’re looking for.”

 

“I don’t expect you to know where it is,” Hook replied, still staring at Barry. “I expect you to unleash Miss Bell. You knew her better than anyone. You know how to make her remember.” 

 

Len shook his head. “I don’t. I don’t know.”

 

Hook sighed. “Then I guess the tide will take you. Maybe watching you die, having her life in danger, will trigger something.”

 

The water was starting to cover their chests. High tide was coming in quick. It wouldn’t be long before it was over their heads--five minutes at most, and it’d be over. 

 

“You can still get out of this, Miss Bell,” he whispered. “Agree to help me, and I will release you.” 

 

Barry looked to Len. There was a swirl of mixed emotions in his eyes. Honestly, he wouldn’t blame Barry if he took the deal. He didn’t remember anything about their past life. He had no loyalty to him or to Neverland. 

 

But, in true Tinkerbell fashion, he turned back to Hook and spit in his face. 

 

If it’d been anyone else, Len was sure Hook killed him. As it was, the pirate captain drew his pistol in anger, only to shoot the closest pirate. Barry jumped but didn’t flinch away, which Len found impressive. Then, he hooked Barry by the shirt and dragged him closer to his face. 

 

“This could be so much easier on you if you’d just accept me.”

 

Barry gritted his teeth. “Go. To. Hell.” 

 

Hook sighed deeply and lowered Barry back into the water. It was sloshing against their chins now tracing the ends of their fingertips. Then, Hook nodded to one of the other pirates. 

 

A hand fell on his head, and Len barely had enough time to suck in air before his head was forced under the water. He tried not to thrash or scream, but it was hard when he was being forcibly drowned. He could hear muffled screaming and crying from the surface. 

 

Barry was begging Hook to stop.

 

He needed to think his way out, but there was so much focus on him, there was no way he’d be able to escape. Unless…

 

He went limp. He was grateful that he and Lisa took SCUBA lessons and competed to see who could hold their breath the longest before certification. There was another scream from Barry.

 

One thing Hook must have forgotten about Peter Pan—he had very slender hands. As slowly as he could, he started to slide his hand out of the shackles.

 

The pirate released his head, letting him float close enough to the top to see what was happening.

 

“You killed him!” Barry shouted. His shackles clanged against the rock as he pulled and fought.

 

“You don’t have much air left, Miss Bell,” Hook warned. “Tell me where the last pixie dust grove is, and I will release you. Or you can die, like Pan.”

 

He didn’t seem to happy that his great enemy seemed to be dead. Len wondered what that meant for his plans. He got his first hand free and was working on the other when a sound rose over the water. 

 

_ Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.  _

 

He worked on his arm with more effort now. He opened one eye, just enough to see a dark figure moving through the water. 

 

“Cap’n…” he heard one of the pirates call out shakily. 

 

Hook cursed as the crocodile got nearer, and Len knew it was now or never. He pulled his hand from the shackle and sunk lower into the water. Focusing his eyes as best he could in the dirty water, he swam over to Barry, whose face was already under the water. 

 

He swam up to the shackles on his wrists and tried to pull his hands free, but it was almost impossible without Barry’s help. The other man was already passing out from air deprivation. He wasn’t going to last long without air. 

 

Len kicked to the surface, popping out of the water. 

 

“It’s Pan!” One of the pirates yelled. They were moved from the water, firing their guns at the crocodile, now on the banks. “He’s alive!”

 

Len sucked in a breath before diving back under. He swam back over to Barry and pressed their lips together, breathing air back into him. He went back up to the surface to get some air for himself, but bullets started to cut through the water. 

 

So, that wasn’t going to work. He swam down to Barry again, searching for something-- _ anything _ \--he could use to free him. Then, he remembered his Swiss. Sure, a knife may not be much help, but a multi-tool versus a rusty shackle?

 

He extended one of the tools and started picking at the locks. The first one took longer than he’d anticipated, but both eventually gave way, and Len took Barry in his arms. He kicked off from the rock and swam towards the surface, near the long boat they’d come in on. 

 

The crocodile was between Hook and them, giving Len a chance to lay Barry in the boat and shove off. 

 

Hook shouted something behind them, but Len was too focused on getting Barry out alive. He rowed the boat as best he could out of the cave, not caring where they were heading, as long as it was far from the pirates as he could get. 

  
  



	4. Sweetly Drown You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written on my iPad because my computer isn’t working, so I didn’t have access to grammerly.

**_“On these magic shores children at play are for ever beaching their coracles. We too have been there; we can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more.”_  
― J.M. Barrie**

~~~~***~~~~

 

There were lips on his. Air being pushed into his lungs. 

 

“Barry,” someone was saying far away. “Barry...come on, Barry…”

 

Pressure thumped against his chest. Something forced its way up his throat, and the next thing he knew, he was jackknifing awake, practically hurling a lung out. 

 

Someone patted him on the back as he spit out mouthfuls of water. He sucked in air greedily, his fingers digging into wet sand as he steadied himself. 

 

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.” 

 

He raised his eyes and sighed. Leonard Snart was kneeling beside him. They were sitting on a beach beside a long boat. He knew that, if he looked up, it wouldn’t be the sky he was used to. 

 

“God,” he moaned, “it wasn’t a dream.”

 

Snart shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. Positives, at least--you aren’t the prisoner of a bloodthirsty pirate anymore.” 

 

He couldn’t argue with that. Hunter hadn’t tried anything--nothing more than unwanted touches on his head and shoulders since he was thrown in the brig--but he still made Barry uncomfortable. The man thought Barry was  _ Tinkerbell, _ for God’s sake. 

 

“So, now what?” Barry asked. He glanced around. “How far are we from the rock?”

 

“Not far enough.” Snart sighed. “I had to resuscitate you, so I just stopped at the nearest shore I could get to. We’re currently on the east end of the island, smack dab between Marooners Rock and the Jolly Roger.”

 

Barry scoffed. “Awesome. Any plans to get us out of here? Don’t suppose you can just ‘fly us out’?”

 

Snart opened his mouth like he was going to answer, then frowned. “You’re taking this all remarkably well.”

 

Barry raised an eyebrow. “You mean after being kidnapped by my hot neighbor who actually has a hook for a hand, held captive on a pirate ship, almost eaten by the biggest crocodile I’ve ever seen in my life, and then nearly drowned while chained to a rock, I should start doubting your Peter Pan, like Hunter says? Do  _ you _ think you’re Peter Pan?”

 

Snart shrugged. “I mean, I literally flew here, so it’s not exactly out of the realm of possibility.” 

 

He waited for a laugh or a gotcha, some sign that Snart was joking about that, but he just smiled thinly. Barry cleared his throat. “Don’t suppose you can get us home that way?”

 

Snart shook his head. “I used a lot getting here. I don’t think I’ll be up for another long flight for a while.”

 

“How long?”

 

Snart pursed his lips in thought. “Well, that’s been holed up in me for twenty-eight years, so…”

 

Barry fell back on the sand and groaned. “Great. We’re trapped on a magical island with pirates after us and no allies, since I’m assuming your Lost Boy friend isn’t coming back.”

 

Snart sighed and rose to his feet. He dusted the sand off his dark jeans and strolled over to the longboat. “C’mon, Scarlet,” he called out. “I think I know where we can go, but the water is the quickest way there without getting caught by pirates.”

 

For a second, he hesitated. He’d already trusted one person who turned out to be bad. What if Snart wasn’t really who he said he was either? 

 

Then again, Hunter tried to kill him. There was a twisted, savage glee in his eyes when they thought Snart drowned at Marooners Rock that Barry could only picture Captain Hook having for Peter Pan. Besides, going with him was better than sitting on a beach, waiting for pirates. He pushed himself up and got in the boat. 

 

“Where are we going?” 

 

Snart smirked, pushing the longboat into the water and jumping in quickly. “We’re heading for the west end of the island. The mountains.”

 

Barry thought back on the No Longer Neverland books. If he remembered correctly, the mountains were a place the pirates avoided for two reasons. Never Birds--vicious, bloodthirsty beasts--and…

 

“We’re going to see the Natives.”

 

Snart finger-gunned him. “Bingo. If I remember correctly, no matter what problems the Natives had with Peter, they always chose him over Hook. No one hates the pirates more.”

 

There was a map on the inside covers of the books. Barry had memorized it after staring for hours in wonder at the details. Snart wouldn’t take them around the island--that would take them past the Jolly Roger--so, they must have been going to cut  _ through  _ the island, via the river. It was a great plan, except for one minor detail.

 

“You realize this route takes us not only through Mermaid Lagoon, but through their feeding grounds? It’s why the pirates never use it.”

 

“And exactly why we are.”

 

Barry rolled his eyes. “And how exactly are you going to avoid the mermaids?”

 

“Expertly.” Snart winked at him. Barry snorted. Same old arrogant Leonard Snart. 

 

They fell into silence for a bit, Snart focusing on rowing and Barry trying not to picture what getting eaten by mermaids was like. 

 

“Y’know,” Snart spoke up about ten minutes into their journey. “You don’t seem to like me very much.”

 

Barry hummed. “What gives you that idea?” 

 

Snart’s eyes went to the space between them—Barry was practically sitting on the stern, as far from him as he could get without getting in the water. “Just a feeling.” 

 

Barry scoffed and looked away. He couldn’t tell Snart the truth. He could barely admit it to himself--he’d had a crush on the man since the first time he laid eyes on him. When he found out he was just some loose playboy, it’d hurt, but he thought he could get over it. Then, he read Leonard Snart’s first book. The poetry of words, the heartfelt emotion, the engrossing plot that kept him reading until sunrise. He could hardly believe it was written by the same man. 

 

Deep down, he believed that maybe the man Snart put on to be was just skin deep. Maybe there was a romantic in there, just waiting to find that one person. And maybe Barry secretly always hoped it could be him. 

 

He was too afraid to find out, so he mostly avoided contact with the author, limiting his interactions to reading the novels and writing love letters to them in his column. 

 

“Come on, Scarlet,” Snart tried again. “You can’t be upset about that publicity thing all those years ago. You were the one who rejected me, after all.”

 

Barry laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “Y’know, not everything is about you, Snart. Do you think that maybe my mood could be from getting trapped on a deadly magical island with people who are actively trying to maim and/or kill me?”

 

“Len.”

 

Barry’s mouth shut with a click. He frowned in confusion. “What?”

 

“Call me ‘Len’, not ‘Snart’. If we’re going to be stuck here with one another, I’d rather not hear my last name yelled at me like I’m in trouble at school.” 

 

Barry bit back a smile. “Then don’t call me ‘Scarlet’. Where did you come up with that, anyway?”

 

Len circled Barry’s face with his finger. “The way you...it’s the color you turn when you get really angry. It’s adorable and a bit terrifying.”

 

“Noted.”

 

Len smiled at him, and Barry couldn’t help but smile back. Reluctantly, he moved to the seat across from him. 

 

“If it makes you feel better,” Len said, “I don’t think that Hook wants you dead. Me, probably, but he could’ve killed you anytime. You didn’t even look like you had a scratch on you when I first saw you.”

 

Barry’s smile faltered, his eyes going to the water. “Yeah, well, I woke up chained to his bed with him staring creepily at me. Not to mention that he posed as my hot neighbor for the past few months or so, which feels a bit stalker-y.”

 

“Do you have to emphasize the ‘hot’ part every time?”

 

Barry ignored him. “So, y’know, I hope all he wants is to kill me, because he isn’t getting anything else.” 

 

When he looked back, Len was smiling proudly at him. “What?” 

 

“Nothing. I just see a bit of Tinkerbell in you.”

 

Barry groaned. “Look, I am willing to believe we’re on Neverland. I’m even willing to believe you’re Peter Pan and you wrote your books based on repressed memories. But there is no way you will ever get me to believe that I’m actually Tinkerbell. I was born on Earth. I have the birth certificate to prove it, and my mom has stretch marks to show for it.”

 

“Let me guess,” Len said with a smirk, “you were born on March 14th, 1991.”

 

Barry’s smugness faltered. “How did you know that?”

 

Len laughed quietly. “Because that was the day the Snarts found me wandering the streets.”

 

“But you were found, not born.”

 

“Yes,” Len argued, “but there’s something you don’t know--the ending of my series. Hook catches up to Peter and Tink while they’re traveling between realms. Realizing that it would came down to Peter surviving or her, she draws every ounce of magic and destroys herself. She blows Hook out of the sky and Peter down to Earth, and she’s ripped apart. But the only way a fairy can truly die is if all belief in them is lost.”

 

“Peter loved Tink and believed in her so much,” Barry whispered, “he could shield her from death itself.”

 

“Exactly,” Len agreed. “Tink’s spirit lived on, even though her body was destroyed. And she was reborn into the body of a human, a baby being born at that same moment.”

 

It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. He wasn’t a fairy or something so powerful. The island  _ belonged _ to Tinkerbell’s people, long before Hook, Peter Pan, and the Lost Boys showed up. Their magic was the lifeblood of the land. That wasn’t him. He struggled opening jars of peanut butter. 

 

He furrowed his brow. “Wait, there’s no way you know all that. You lost your memory when you fell.”

 

A sly smile appeared on Len’s lips. “True, but it has the makings of a good story and makes a whole hell of a lot of sense. Besides, sometimes, I just know things. Don’t you?”

 

Like the history of Neverland, which was never mentioned in the books. He kept his mouth shut and looked at his hands instead. 

 

“Do you think we’re going to be okay?” he asked, his voice so quiet, he wasn’t sure if Len had heard him.

 

A hand fell to his and, when Barry looked back up, Len was nodding. “As long as we stick together, we’re going to be fine.” 

 

He stared into Len’s eyes, and he heard singing. He wanted to lean in, wanted to kiss Len, find out if he was that one, when a terrifying realization hit. He _was_ hearing music. It was rising over the lagoon.

 

The water around them was starting to glow purples and blues and greens. There was the sound of soft splashes just out his peripherals. They’d drifted into Mermaid Lagoon. 

 

“Len, how do we avoid getting drowned and/or eaten by the mermaids?” He turned back to his companion, but he could tell it was a lost cause. Len’s eyes were glazed over and staring out at the figures swimming by under the water. He’d stopped rowing completely. 

 

“Len,” he said sternly, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “Len! You gotta fight it. They’re going to kill you.”

 

_ Don’t listen to him. _

 

Barry jerked. None of the mermaids had surfaced, but the voice had been clear, almost like the water itself said it. 

 

_ He’s jealous. Jealous that you get us all to yourself. All you need to do is come with us.  _

 

A pale blue hand with webbed fingers gently broke the water. 

 

_ Don’t you want to come with us? _

 

Len reached out, but Barry pulled him away from the edge. His eyes were glazed over, his body swaying with their song. Barry couldn’t understand—the mermaids never tried to kill Peter Pan. They flirted with him and tried to drown anyone with him. 

 

The boat started to rock, and he turned his attention to their assailants. “Stop! This is Peter Pan!” he tried to explain. “We’re trying to escape Hook!” 

 

The rocking and singing stopped. Barry refused to celebrate, though. A head started to break the surface. It was a woman with pale green skin and hair like seaweed. She was looking down so her hair fell over her face. 

 

He grabbed one of the oars and brandished it like a weapon. The lagoon went silent as the mermaid slowly raised her head. Gone were the beautiful, delicate mermaids of Neverland. The creature in front of them had long, jagged teeth. Her eyes were milky white and pupiless. Her skin was sewer green. When she locked eyes with Barry, two large fins shot threateningly out of the side of her head, and she screeched. 

 

Len continued staring at mermaid like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. 

 

There was a loud splash behind them, and Barry had just enough time to duck down as another mermaid launched her entire body out of the water and threw herself at him. She flopped into the boat, scratching at him and hissing as she lunged to bite at him. 

 

He whacked her in the jaw with the oar, and another one leapt from the water. Before she could make it to the boat, Barry swung the oar like a bat, knocking her back into the water. 

 

The mermaid in the boat attacked again, but this time, Barry was ready. He swung the oar with all his might, hitting her in the head with a sickening crack and knocking her clean out of the boat.

 

“Yeah!” he yelled after her. “Take that...bitch.”

 

He turned back to grab the other oar, only to see Len hanging halfway out of the boat with the first mermaid stroking her clawed, webbed fingers across his cheek. He sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t react fast enough to stop the mermaid from pulling Len right over the side into the water.

 

“PETER!” he screamed, lunging forward to stop her. He got there just as Len disappeared in the water.

 

Barry sighed. He’d  _ just _ gotten dry from Marooners Rock. He peeled off his shirt and dove in after them. The water was clear and blue, unnaturally so. The rocks under the water flowed in the purples and greens lighting up the water so Barry could see the mermaid dragging Len down.

 

He swam as fast as he could, but there was no way he would catch up with a mermaid in her own territory. She got ahead, dragging Len behind her, and Barry looked for some way— _ anyway— _ he could save Len. There was nothing, though. He couldn’t catch up, couldn’t fight, couldn’t do anything but float around uselessly.

 

He wished he  _ was  _ Tinkerbell. At least she could use magic or something to stop them. Fury bubbled in his stomach as Len disappeared from sight. The water around him got warmer and warmer, until bubbles started to form. Barry wasn’t sure what was happening, but the mermaids started to swim frantically, frightened screeches echoing through the water. When he looked at his hands, they were shimmering yellows and greens. 

 

He yelped, a large bubble erupting from his mouth. Whatever was going on, though, seemed to be working in his favor. Len started to rise from the darkness, the mermaid pulling him long gone. Barry dove deeper and, once he was in reach, grabbed Len by the arm. He swam as hard and fast as he could for the surface, breaking through so quickly, it was like he was flying. After that, he blacked out. 

 

—————

 

The hideaway used to be a tree with a network of tunnels underneath. It was the perfect place for the Lost Boys, since the tunnels were almost impossible to find without knowing where they were and let out at various points around the island. After Pan left, the deserters joined the pirates, and all of their secrets were revealed to their enemies. So, the loyal Lost Boys caved in all the tunnels and moved the hideaway somewhere no one would think to look—into the treetops.

 

They were lucky that Ray, Jax, and Wally were so good at figuring out how to put things together. The three youngest Lost Boys worked out a way to incorporate pathways and huts into the trees, camouflaging them so well that no one walking below would even know there was a civilization right above them. 

 

It had worked for the past thirty years, and Sara suspected it would work for years after. There were ten huts in all, spanning the distance of about a mile. Sara and Mick both had their own huts. Nate and Ray shared one, as did Wally and Jax. There was a medical hut, an arsenal, and four lookouts spread out along the perimeter. Sara did most of the lookout duties. She was the best and had the sharpest eyes. Once, she shot down a canary three miles in the sky with an unbalanced arrow. It was how she got her name. 

 

Since Jax didn’t return from his hunting trip four days ago and Mick disappeared hours after, she’d taken to staying in the lookout hut, keeping an eye out for their return. She stayed at the south facing hut most of the time. That was the hut that watched the shore where the Jolly Roger anchored. Whenever something went wrong, it was almost always Hook behind it. 

 

There was movement in the trees. Sara notched an arrow and aimed. The forest went silent. The birds stopped chirping. Sara held her breath. 

 

A bird call sounded, and Mick stumbled into view, Jax supported on his shoulder. She ran from the lookout, ringing the bell by the door as she left and letting down the pulley elevator for the two Lost Boys to hop on. 

 

Ray and Nate came running along the swinging pathway between the lookout and other huts. When they saw Mick and Jax, they hurried to Sara’s side and grabbed the elevator’s rope. The three pulled, lifting the contraption into the trees. Once it was level with the walk, Mick stepped out, helping Jax behind him. 

 

Now that they were up close, Sara was shocked at the state of them. Jax, for one, had dried blood on his head, bruises on his face, and his clothes were dank and dirty. Mick, on the other hand, was dressed completely different. He was in a pair of rough, blue pants and a v-neck shirt. If she had a guess, she’d say that he’d been on Earth. 

 

“What the hell?” she demanded. “Where have you two been?”

 

Mick seemed reluctant to answer, but Jax had no problem. “It was amazing!” he exclaimed, lighting up like a firefly. “I was out hunting and Hook got me. So, Mick went all the way to Earth and brought back  _ Pan.” _

 

Nate and Ray lit up with excitement, but Sara glanced Mick’s way. He was shifting guiltily, his eyes averted. 

 

She stepped forward and laid a hand on Jax’s shoulders. “Let’s have Ray look you over in the medical hut, and then we’ll call Wally in and have a group meeting. Sound good?”

 

Jax nodded, and Ray and Nate led him away, all discussing Pan’s return with enthusiasm. Once they were out of earshot, she turned her attention to Mick. “Wanna tell me what actually happened? Because I’m pretty sure that you’re the one who said that Pan was a fraud and we were better off without him.”

 

“I did,” Mick grunted. “And he is.”

 

“Then why did you bring him?”

 

“I didn’t have a choice.” He turned and walked into the lookout hut, and Sara followed. 

 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, spill.”

 

Mick sighed. For the first time in years, he looked like that sad little orphan who appeared on the island. He fell to the floor and pulled his knees to his chest. “I got grabbed by Bivolo and Slick. They dragged me to the Jolly Roger, and...your sister was there.”

 

Sara’s heart fell to her stomach. Lost Boys were special people. They had connections to the island from the fairies born of their first laughs. When the fairies felt their child was completely without hope, they would summon them to Neverland, a place of joy, fun, and hope. When Sara and her sister, Laurel, were children, their parents bought them sailboat. The girls took it out all the time, until one day, they were caught in a storm. The boat was shattered and the sisters separated. 

 

Sara drifted for days, thirsty and tired and starving, until she was certain she would never be found. She fell asleep, and when she woke up, Peter Pan was standing over her, Tinkerbell hovering nearby. She was in Neverland, and her fairy had brought her where she needed to be. 

 

Laurel wasn’t so lucky. No fairy was born of her first laugh, so she was adrift aimlessly, until she was found by a fisherman. When she got home, their father refused to look at her, and all their mother cared about was finding Sara. Laurel became hardened and angry at the world. Sara didn’t know how, but Hook eventually found her and recruited her as his first mate. 

 

She’d learned to hate Sara, and Sara still loved her sister deeply. 

 

She swallowed hard. “What did she say?”

 

“That they had Jax,” Mick answered. “She gave me a file with a bunch of information—files on some kid named Barry Allen, Pan’s identity on Earth, and any explanation I needed to give him to convince him of all this. Then, they sent me to Earth with some of the pixie dust from Hook’s stores.  She told me that if I didn’t get Pan here in three days, they were going to kill Jax. I thought what the hell? Pan hasn’t given a shit about us in thirty years. Why should I let one of us get cut down for him?”

 

Sara raised an eyebrow. “But?”

 

“He doesn’t remember.”

 

Those words struck her like a knife in the chest. She and Mick especially had always wondered why Peter never came home. Why they weren’t important enough for him to come help. All those years of doubting him, and he didn’t even remember there was someone out there who was waiting for him. 

 

“He has a family, Sara,” Mick continued. “A life away from all this shit. I met his sister—you’d love her. She’s a hell of a spitfire and would kill for him. But I still convinced him that I was his friend and betrayed him. And that’s not the worst part.”

 

“What could be worse that that?” Sara dared to ask, though she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know. 

 

“Hook found Tink.”

 

There was the other shoe. 

 

“She’s a dude now or somethin’, but she remembers less than him. She’s a different person, and if Hook can get Tink to turn on Peter and join him…”

 

“He would almost have everything he needed to take Pan’s place as King of Neverland,” Sara finished for him. That wasn’t good. “So what are we going to do?”

 

Mick shook his head, his eyes watery in a rare show of emotion. “I...I don’t know.” 

 

Neither did she. She moved to sit behind him, hoping that Pan—or whoever he was now—had a better plan than they did. 


	5. Sometimes I think that maybe we are just stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First post from Disne! I’m kind of lonely and a bit bored waiting for my job to start, so I’m posting this early.

_**“Tinkerbell has always been there for Peter. And Peter? He chose Wendy.”** _

_**-** _ **Unknown**

 

~~~~***~~~~

He was being moved. One minute, he was being shot out of the lagoon like a cannonball, the next there were voices and pulling. His arms were tight behind his back and he was sitting on something that felt a hell of a lot like a cart.

 

He didn’t want to open his eyes. Nothing good ever came from waking up in Neverland. Then, he felt fingers twine with his. 

 

“I know you’re awake,” he heard Len whispering. “I’m here. You’re okay.” 

 

Something about Len’s voice was so soothing, so genuine, Barry relaxed and opened his eyes. They were in cart made from tree limbs and sticks. Barry was facing the back, while Len, who was tied back-to-back with him, was facing the front. There were people walking along beside the cart, painted and dressed to blend into the trees and carrying all assortment of weapons—-spears, swords, bow and arrows. 

 

Barry sighed. “So. I’m assuming these are the Natives.”

 

He felt Len nod. “The first people after the fairies to inhabit the island. Legends say that they’re descendants of fairies who lost or gave up their wings.” 

 

“And they tied us up and are taking us back to their secret camp. That’s not a good sign.”

 

Len shook his head. “No, it is not. I’m no expert at their language, but I think they believe we’re pirates.”

 

“Did you try telling them that you’re Peter Pan?”

 

Len snorted. “You barely believe me. Why would they?”

 

Barry rested his head back on Len’s. The party was moving through the mountain, and Barry knew that being led down their secret paths without blindfolds meant the Natives didn’t intend to let them leave. 

 

A sick feeling fell over Barry the further they got up the path. There was something horrible and bad up ahead that he didn’t want to see—he could feel it. The closer they came to it, the more unsettled he felt. 

 

“Oh my god…” Len whispered, and Barry couldn’t stop himself from turning his head to see what was ahead. First thing he noticed was that their cart was being pulled by a bear. Weird. 

 

The second thing was the trees. Or lack thereof. 

 

The land was grey and black. The only remnants of the trees were the burnt up limbs and ashen stumps. It was dead. There was no life in the soil, no hopes of regrowth. The land was forever marked by death, the magic of life drained. 

 

“What is this?” Len asked. Barry knew though. Tears watered his eyes as he looked around them at the grove. 

 

“The pixie dust trees,” he answered. “This is where they were, where the fairies lived, before Hook and the pirates came and destroyed it in their greed.” He could feel the emotions of the land like a scar across the island. “Hook was angry. He wanted to rule Neverland himself. He wanted a fairy. They rejected him and refused to give him any of their dust. So, he made sure that no one could have any. He killed every fairy he saw, nearly wiped them out single-handed. Disbelief did the rest. When the fairies died, the grove did too. Hook burned the trees and the land in his fury.”

 

There was no question from Len about how he knew. There were no words at all. Instead, Len squeezed his hand, giving comfort the only way he could in their situation.            

 

“Our people swore an oath,” one of the Natives spat, refusing to even look at them. “Your people shamed us. The fairies trusted us to protect them.”

 

“You did a bang up job, didn’t you?” Len shot back. Barry closed his eyes with a sigh, begging Len to shut up. “I mean, first, you let the pirates do this, now you’re threatening to murder the last fairy in existence.”

 

One of the other Natives jabbed him with the blunt end of his spear. “The fairies are long dead. Be silent, or we’ll tie you to a tree and leave you to the Neverbirds.”

 

Len’s mouth shut with a click. The caravan travelled out of the burnt grove and further into the mountain. In the books, the Natives lived at the foot of the mountain. It seemed like, after the pirates’ attack, they’d moved towards the summit, where only the Native Roads could take them. 

 

They travelled all day, until their captors decided to make camp around sundown. Two of their guards grabbed them and cut their bounds, only to tie their hands in front of them instead. 

 

“Don’t get any ideas,” the one tying Barry warned, pulling so sharply that it made Barry hiss in pain. 

 

Old bread was thrown at their feet, and the Natives built a fire five yards away, which they gathered around warily. 

 

Barry turned to Len. “Aren’t they afraid that we’ll try to escape? They don’t even have guards on us.”

 

Len shook his head. “Any attempts at running this high on Neverpeak is suicide. The Native path is only known by their people, and there are all kinds of wild animals in the trees. Best case scenario, we’d get lost and starve to death.”

 

“Awesome.” Barry sighed. “I know that I’ve been a pain since you saved me, but I really thought we might have a chance. I thought maybe we would make it.” He hung his head. “At least if the Natives kill us, Hunter can’t use us for whatever he wants.” 

 

Len scooted closer and laid a hand on Barry’s knee. “You’re not going to die, Barry. I promise.”

 

Despite his early reservations about Len, he leaned over and rested his head on his shoulder. “I don’t hate you, y’know. I don’t even  _ dislike _ you.”

 

Len chuckled. “Hate to see how you talk to people you do dislike.” 

 

Barry burrowed his head further against him. “I actually really like you. Back at that party when we first met, I did want you. The bartender told me about your...other conquests, and I don’t want to be that. Then, there’s your whole ‘love ‘em, leave ‘em’ reputation…”

 

“Barry,” Len interrupted, “Those ‘conquests’ knew exactly what they were. That’s all they wanted. I never led people to believe our relations were anything but what they were—sex. That isn’t what I wanted when I first met you, though.”

 

Barry pulled his head away to stare at Len’s expression. There was no way he could mean what Barry thought he meant. He had to be imagining it. 

 

But there was no smirk or mischievous twinkle to tell him this was all some kind of flirtation, some part of Len’s seduction. Barry’s mouth went dry. “What did you want?”

 

Len flushed and turned his face away.  _ Oh my god _ , Barry though gleefully,  _ he’s embarrassed. _ “I...I wanted to tell you about my stories.” 

 

Barry bit back a smile. “You what?”

 

“I don’t like talking about my stories with people,” Len explained. “Not my sister. Not any of the people I bring home. Mick is the only one who’s ever seen my notebooks, and he had to tie me to my bed to look at them.”

 

Barry frowned, confused. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Len replied quickly. “Anyway, you’re special. I want you to know that.”

 

Barry’s smile broke free. “Thanks. You’re special, too. I’ve never really wanted to be with anyone before you.”

 

The second the words left his mouth, he wanted to grab them and pull them back. He hoped that Len didn’t read into them too much, but the way his face lit up told him that Len understood  _ exactly  _ what he’d meant. 

 

“Oh my god.” 

 

“Don’t,” Barry warned. 

 

“ _ Oh my god _ . Barry Allen, are you telling me that, in twenty-eight years, you’ve never been with another person?”

 

It was Barry’s turn to be embarrassed. “Shut up.”

 

“You’re a twenty-eight-year-old virgin.”

 

“Shut  _ up. _ ”

 

At least Len didn’t laugh. That’s what most people did when they found out. Instead, he looked Barry over and shook his head with a smile. “You’re just full of surprises.” 

 

“Shut up,” Barry repeated. “The moment is officially over.” 

 

He leaned against the tree behind him and closed his eyes. Silence fell over the woods. Then, a soft melody joined the serenity of Neverpeak. He opened an eye to see Len playing the pan flute that was around his neck. The Natives around the fire were watching him, mixed expressions of awe and confusion on their faces. Barry, for one, let the music take him away. 

 

Strangely, it didn’t surprise him when lights appeared around the clearing. They were like fireflies, dancing to Len’s song. When he looked down at his skin, it was shimmering again, just like it had in mermaid lagoon. For the first time since he came to Neverland, he was calm, at home. The woods weren’t intimidating anymore. The creatures hiding in it weren’t scary. The only thing that scared him was losing this moment. 

 

Len frowned when he looked to Barry, but continued playing. All of the Natives were watching in shock now. The song and lights danced around each other in a waltz that seemed all too familiar. 

 

As the music built, Barry’s eyes drifted shut again. He could feel everything about the island—the trees breathing, the water lapping against the shore, the mermaids swimming their own dances in the lagoon. He could feel the Lost Boys in the trees at the base of the mountain. He could sense Hunter’s pirates scouring the woods for them. 

 

Most of all, he could feel Len. His joy, his awe, his fear, his hope, his love. Like every other living thing, he was tied to the island, but more than that, he was tied to  _ Barry _ . 

 

There were gasps around him, but he was too concerned with the flow of magic from the island. It was telling him something. He focused hard, following the paths of energy until he was underground. There was a cavern under the Neverpeak, one that glowed like starlight. In the most impossible way, there was more life here than anywhere on the island. 

 

The music stopped. Barry was jerked from his vision, back in the camp with everyone else staring at him. The shimmering on his skin had stopped, but the Natives and Len were watching him like he’d done something magnificent. 

 

The Native who had tied him up was the first to approach. When he was a foot away, he dropped to his knees in front of him. He didn’t bow, or lower his head, but Barry knew this was some kind of reverence. The others approached and did the same. 

 

It made him uncomfortable. 

 

He looked to Len. “What’s going on?”

 

“You started glowing,” Len answered, smiling. “And you levitated.” 

 

He wasn’t sure what he’d done, but looking out at the Natives, who gazed back at him with hope, he knew what they believed.

 

—————

 

It was a strange transition, going from Neverland to Earth and back again. He hadn’t hated his life as Hunter Zolomon, Barry Allen’s neighbor. On the contrary, it was one of the most pleasant experiences of his life. Getting to know Barry Allen, having him over for dinner, finding out what Tinkerbell could be without Peter Pan. 

 

There was so much love and loyalty. At first, he thought that Barry Allen was a facade—a spell hiding Tinkerbell’s identity from everyone, including herself, to be broken once they returned to Neverland. It wasn’t until she’d nearly let Pan die that he realized maybe the spell was more than that. 

 

He sat back in his chair, back in the captain’s quarters on the Jolly Roger, and remembered his last confrontation with Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. 

 

The pair had been world jumping for years, avoiding him at every turn and staying for steps ahead of them. Then, he started to think like Peter Pan. One thing he refused to do was leave the Darling family alone. Earth was his weakness, so he stayed and waited. 

 

The Darlings had split into different names over the years. Wendy married someone named Hudson. The pair moved to America, where they had a daughter named Lenora. Lenora had a daughter named Shirley, who married a man named Snart and became pregnant with his child. Snart was out of the picture, but Shirley lived in New York City, and Hook knew the benefits of patience. 

 

It wasn’t even four months into his wait that a shadow passed over Shirley Snart’s window, accompanied by a glowing figure. Tinkerbell had given up her wings a while ago, leaving her the size of a human, flying like Pan would. She didn’t seem particularly happy about the visit—she never did like Wendy, so it made sense she would dislike her descendants. 

 

Hook waited until they preparing to leave before he attacked. The first damage was to Tinkerbell herself—he drove his hook into her side and threw her back. Not a fatal wound, but enough to get her out of the way. He and Pan fought along the rooftop, parrying and swinging. Pan was distracted, though. His fairy was injured. 

 

Hook used it to his advantage and overpowered him, knocking him to the ground and disarming him. 

 

He hadn’t expected Tinkerbell to do what she did next. Neither had Pan. 

 

The fairy leapt between the pair, her eyes glowing gold and body shaking violently. Pan tried to fly off. Hook tried to do the same. But Tinkerbell focused all her power on him. In a last ditch effort to save Pan, she threw him away with every ounce of energy in his body, blowing him all the way back to Neverland.

 

He was unconscious for two weeks. He hadn’t even considered the truth of what’d happened—that Tinkerbell had ripped herself apart to stop him, and in doing so wiped herself and Pan clean. 

 

At first, he was furious. Now, however, he could see it as an opportunity. Barry Allen wasn’t Tinkerbell. He was something new, something that could be manipulated into something even more beautiful. Hook knew what he needed to become King of Neverland, and he knew he needed Barry to make that possible. All he needed to do was get Leonard Snart out of the way. 

 

A knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts. Without waiting for an answer, Laurel Lance strode inside. 

 

“Hook,” she said—she never called him ‘Captain’, something he found endearing about her, “Mardon and Bivolo have come back from the island. The Natives have Pan and the fairy. They’ve taken the Native Road, so we have no idea where they’re taking them.”

 

She tensed, preparing herself for some kind of outburst. Hook just smirked. “There are other ways of finding them, like letting them come to us.”

 

He rose from his seat and strode over to one of the cabinets lining the wall. Laurel looked on in shock and confusion as he reached inside and pulled out a jar with a dried out husk in it. 

 

“Hook,” she said, “that’s the last fairy you have. After you harvest it, there’s no more pixie dust.”

 

Hook nodded. “But, if we play our cards right, it’ll lead us to more. Funny thing about fairies, Miss Lance—they’re as connected to each other as they are to the island. It used to be they would feel each other passing, almost as though they were dying themselves.”

 

Laurel frowned. “How does that help us?”

 

“Barry Allen may not be Tinkerbell anymore, but he is still a fairy. Which means this little guy is the key to finding him. And where there’s Tinkerbell…”

 

“...there’s Peter Pan.” A devilish grin grew over Laurel’s lips. And that was why she was his favorite. 

 

—————

 

The Natives let Barry and Len walk the next day, grinning excitedly as they did. Barry was a bit uncomfortable with all the attention, but Len was drinking it up. The men who had been guarding them before were asking questions about Earth, about what ‘Pan and Tinkerbell’ had been up to, why they were back. 

 

Barry walked with two of the female warriors named Amaya and Zari, who seemed far less impressed. 

 

“Is he always like this?” Zari asked, nodding to Len. 

 

Barry nodded. “It’s been my experience so far. Though…”

 

“Though what?” Amaya asked, a curious smile on her face. 

 

“There are times when he’s actually kind of...charming. And not in that arrogant, bragging way. He has a way of making people feel special.”

 

The three looked to Len, who was chattering on about how bravely he’d fought the mermaids. Zari raised an eyebrow. “That guy?” 

 

Barry sighed. “Yep. Then again, that could just be wishful thinking. By the way, he dove in after the mermaids and  _ I  _ saved  _ him. _ ”

 

Amaya and Zari laughed. The latter shook her head. “Sounds about right. The stories of our people more often than not have Pan in them. He’s an arrogant little snot who can’t admit it when he can’t do something.”

 

“But,” Amaya argued, “there are also stories of his heroics—he’s a brave warrior who laughs in the face of danger.”

 

“So, he’s an idiot.”

 

Barry tried to smother his laugh, but Len heard and looked back. When their eyes met, a small, sincere smile grew on his lips. As much as he enjoyed ragging on Len, he could see the man behind the mask. A good-hearted man, who strives to protect the people he cares for and loves with all his heart. A tendril of doubt edged into his mind—sure, Len was all flirty and sweet now, but what if all the affection was about Tinkerbell and not Barry? Despite all of his visions and sparkles, he refused to believe he was Tinkerbell, even if somehow he once was. It didn’t...feel right. Like, when you have a dream where you’re one thing—a doctor, an actor, a singer—and it’s nice and all, but deep down, you know that it isn’t you. You’re you, and it’s something you learn to love about yourself.

 

He didn’t  _ want  _ to be Tinkerbell. If somewhere deep down, she was suppressed inside of him, waiting to come out, would that mean that Barry’d cease to exist if she returned? Was that the only reason Hook wanted him? The only reason Len wanted him?

 

“Oh my god.” A gasp drew him from his doubts and wonderings. Zari’s jaw was hanging open with sadistic glee. “You  _ like  _ him.”

 

“No, I don’t,” Barry lied, willing down the red blush on his cheeks. 

 

“Oh, yes you do,” Amaya said. “It’s all over your face. Does he know?”

 

Barry sighed. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. If everyone on this island is right, I’m only here because I’m supposedly Tinkerbell. It’s the only reason he likes me.”

 

Amaya raised an eyebrow. “Really? In all your time on Earth, not once did the two of you, completely memory-less, find each other and have feelings for one another?”

 

He could’ve lied. Hell, he could’ve ignored her. Instead, he looked back at Len and sighed longingly. “I really like him. What if it the only reason he wants me?” 

 

Zari shook her head. “It isn’t. Last night, when you were being all weird, he didn’t look at you lovingly. He looked scared for you. It wasn’t until you were you again that he gave you those goo-goo eyes.”

 

“He’s got it  _ bad _ ,” Amaya agreed. “Look, Barry, it doesn’t matter if you’re Tinkerbell or just some guy from Earth. The last time Peter Pan looked at someone like that on this island, everything changed. Hook suffered his biggest defeat, Princess Tiger Lily was crowned Chief, and Pan was never the same again.”

 

Somewhere deep down, he knew exactly who they meant. Wendy Darling. 

 

_ Floozy. _

 

_ Pan-stealing hag.  _

 

The insults reverberated through his head, and he could feel his face heating up. 

 

“Barry, calm down,” Amaya said, laying a hand on his shoulder. He took a deep breath, and the heat faded, leaving him content and calm. 

 

Zari let out a low whistle. “Damn, stories aren’t kidding. Fairies do have a temper. Didn’t even say her name and you were still ready to fly back to Earth, dig up her bones, and throttle her.” 

 

He was a bit embarrassed that he’d gotten so jealous so easy, but Zari and Amaya didn’t seem to mind. They continued around the mountain until they came to a cave entrance. The Natives led them into the mouth, setting fire to their torches to light the way. There were drawings on the walls that Barry knew weren’t made by human hands. He longed to trace his fingers over the lines, to feel the power underneath. 

 

He kept his hands to himself. The man in the front stopped at the mouth of three tunnels. 

 

Zari leaned in to Barry. “The caves under the Neverpeak change constantly. It’s a labyrinth down here. Without knowing how to navigate them, you could be lost in here forever.”

 

Barry nodded, watching with interest as the man knelt to touch the floor, his fingers making lines in the dirt. After a few minutes, he stood up and headed into the far left tunnel. The rest of the group followed. 

 

“How did he do that?” Barry asked.

 

“I’m sure you know by now that our people are descendants of fairies who clipped their wings,” Amaya explained. “As such, there’s just enough magic in our blood to connect us to the parts of the island we wish to find. Fairies can see and feel anything on the island, as long as they know what they’re looking for.”

 

“Huh.” That was kind of amazing, To think that these people were all that was left of the fairies—expect him, if everyone else wasn’t crazy. The magic that flowed through them had to be impressive, even if they didn’t think so. 

 

They followed at the back of the group towards the far left tunnel, but something made Barry pause. A cool wind blew through the tunnels, sending a shiver down his spine. He turned towards the middle tunnel and frowned. Something was pulling at his core, telling him to come down, to see. A pinprick of light danced deep in the tunnel. 

 

He took a step towards it, but someone grabbed his arm.  “Barry.”

 

He looked away from the tunnel sharply. Len was frowning worriedly at him. “Are you okay? You just kind of...stopped.”

 

“Yeah, just…” He pointed at the tunnel, but the light was gone now. “I thought I saw…” He trailed off, not wanting to sound crazy. 

 

Len took his hand and smiled. “Come on, Scarlet. We’re gonna lose everyone else.”  

 

Sending one last look back at the tunnel, he followed solemnly. 

 

—————

 

It only took another hour to get to the end of the tunnel they took, but once they stepped out, Len was in complete awe. He’d pictured something rustic and simple, but the Native village was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. They were living in tents, but they were anything but simple. They were woven with brightly colored cloths of yellows, pinks, blues, and greens, all twined together in a way that made them look more like works of art than places where people lived. 

 

The tents were sectioned off, clearly breaking the people up by their duties—there were about twenty tents that were set around a plot of crops. A row of about five were suspended over the creek that cut through the village, with long lines stretched down into the water. There were some tents around the edges of the village, and when Len squinted, he could see crossbows hidden in the tops of them. 

 

He let out a whistle. “Damn. This is better than I imagined.” 

 

“Without the Lost Boys distracting us with the ‘games’,” one of the Natives standing near him named Mina said, “we were able to actually get things done and repair our village the correct way from pirate attacks.” 

 

She gave him a pointed look, which automatically made him feel shamed.

 

Barry choked down a laugh, and Len narrowed his eyes playfully at him.

 

The Natives in the village were beginning to take notice of them, gathering around with awe and curiosity. Young children broke away from their mothers and ran at him, latching to his legs in a whirlwind of giggles. 

 

“Pan is the spirit of youth,” Amaya explained. “It’s natural that, within your element, the children would be drawn to you.”

 

Barry didn’t even bother suppressing his laughter now. He was laughing like a fool as the kids tried to climb up Len like a jungle gym, begging him to play with them. 

 

“Children.”

 

All of the kids suddenly let go and backed away. An older, darker toned man approached. His lip twitched with distaste the second he laid eyes on Len, but he smiled when he turned to Barry. 

 

“Welcome to our village. It’s been too long since we’ve been able to care for one of your kind. I’m even tolerant of welcoming Pan and all his troubles on your behalf. I’m Joseph West.”

 

He extended a hand out to Barry, who shook it, but did nothing for Len. Somehow, he knew he probably deserved it from something he’d done in his early years. 

 

He cleared his throat. “So...we need to speak to Princess Tiger Lily. Is she here?” 

 

Long ago, Tiger Lily and Pan made an agreement that, no matter what, if one called for help, the other would assist, no matter what. The second he mentioned her name, however, Joseph’s face fell. 

 

Oh. 

 

“How long has it been?” he asked sadly. 

 

“Fifteen years. She became a great chief—one of the best our people ever had. She fought hard against the pirates and their plague on this island. For that, Hook had her poisoned and killed.”

 

Anger boiled in Len’s stomach. “How? How did he get so close to her? Who would  _ dare  _ betray their own chief, especially Tiger Lily?” 

 

“Calm yourself, Pan,” Joseph bade. “The traitor has long since been dealt with. There is a new chief who takes Tiger Lily’s place—her daughter. I will allow your fairy companion to speak with her, but only him. Understood?” 

 

Len opened his mouth to argue, but Barry took his hand. “Of course, Joseph,” he replied calmly, squeezing Len’s hand reassuringly. “We understand that this is  _ your  _ village, and we must obey  _ your  _ rules. Right, Len?”

 

Len sighed and nodded. 

 

“Good.” Joseph motioned for one of the guards to lead Barry to a small tent in the center of the village. 

 

It was different than all the others. Instead of being woven with multicolored cloth, this tent was made of sticks and purple irises. At the doorway of the tent, Barry glanced back at Len with a small smile. Neither knew what was going to happen—if the chief would turn them away or have them executed, or if she would be more like her mother and choose to fearlessly fight alongside them. 

 

Barry blew out a breath and stepped inside. 

 


	6. Angel, the word you’re looking for is pirate

_**“You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you."** _

**-Tinkerbell**

~~~~***~~~~

The tent was dimly lit, though there were candles in circular glass containers around the edges. They lit the way to a young woman sitting on the floor in the center of the room.

 

Barry’s breath caught. She was beautiful—probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her eyes were a gorgeous brown that he could get lost in, her hair was curled with irises tied in it...honestly, he couldn’t even describe everything about her that made her seem like a goddess of Neverland more than the chief.

 

When she looked up at him, she frowned. “Barry Allen?”

 

He hadn’t expected that. “You know who I am?”

 

“I’ve had dreams of you. Your parents, your passions. Loves and heartbreaks.Your life.” She gestured for him to sit down across from her. “I have visions, sometimes. I’m not sure why. My mother used to say that, after the last fairy died—after Tinkerbell destroyed herself—parts of her magic blew across the realms, and some of it chose to come to me. I didn’t know what to make of that when I was young, but seeing you here…”

 

“I’m _not_ Tinkerbell.”

 

“I didn’t say you were,” she argued, putting her hands up in defense. “At least, you aren’t _yet._ You’re Tinkerbell’s soul, reborn. Everything she ever was is inside of you, making up who you are. That doesn’t mean that you’re her. If anything, it means that she’s you.”

 

Barry frowned. “I don’t understand.”

 

She sighed. “Okay, think of it this way. Tinkerbell is the fairy who was born of Peter Pan’s first laugh. It created an unbreakable bond between them in a way no fairy had ever accomplished before. She devoted herself to Peter. But you didn’t. As a human, you’ve had the choice to do and be whatever you want. You were created by your _own_ choices. Devotion isn’t holding you and Pan together. Everything that happens is because you chose it.”

 

He wasn’t sure he understood completely what she was saying, but he nodded anyway. “Me and Len...I mean, Pan or whatever...we need a place to hide from the pirates. They’re coming after us, trying to find the secret pixie dust grove.”

 

“The Hidden Grove.”

 

“Yeah, that. Hunter....or Hook...tried to kill us at Marooners Rock to find it, and now he’s scouring the island for us.”

 

“He won’t kill you,” she corrected. “Pan, sure. But you’re a prize. He can’t have what he wants without you.”

 

Barry’s frown deepened. “You mean to rule Neverland?”

 

“In a way.” She shrugged. “Do you know what King of Neverland means?”

 

Barry shook his head.

 

“When Peter Pan leaves Neverland, a cold winter takes over the island, freezing the Never Sea and making it snow every day until his return. When he left with the intention of never returning, the island became feral and overrun. Why do you think that is?”

 

Barry thought about what she was telling him. “Because...he’s connected to the island?”

 

“Exactly. And there’s only one thing in existence that can do that.”

 

That didn’t settle well in his stomach. Hunter wanted him because he literally thought that Barry could connect him to the island and make him a king. He couldn’t do that. “We need to get home.”

 

She nodded. “I agree. But there are only two ways I see that happening—one, you find the Hidden Grove, take some pixie dust, and fly off the island. Or two, I can help you remember how to channel your abilities, and you can take Pan away yourself.”

 

Barry opened his mouth and closed it with a click. He opened it again but couldn’t decide what to say.

 

“You don’t have to make your decision now,” she said, rising to her feet. Barry followed. “I have a special tent for you and Pan on the outside of the village. It’s perfectly safe, and the two of you can discuss your options tonight and tell me what you’ve decided in the morning. Either way, I will help, however you need me to.”

 

She extended her hand. “My name is Iris West. And, like my mother, I will fight with Pan.”

 

He took her hand and smiled, glad to have allies in this messed up situation.

 

—————

There was a celebration that night around a large bonfire. The Natives danced and sat Len and Barry at Iris’ side as a place of honor. Halfway through, a group of dancers stepped in front of the fire while the others sat back down.

 

The six bowed their heads and then started their dance. Iris leaned closer to Barry. “They’re telling the story of Pan’s battle with Hook with the Darling children. It starts with Peter Pan finding out that Wendy and the Lost Boys were leaving him.”

 

The dancers moved, one miming to the other, who turned away.

 

“But Hook knew that there were two ways to get to Pan—through Tinkerbell, and through Wendy. He already had Tinkerbell locked away on his ship, and he and his pirates kidnapped Wendy and the other children.”

 

One of the dancers mimed being in a cage. Another was carried away by the dancer playing Hook.

 

“But Tinkerbell escaped, knowing that Hook was going to make his move against Peter. Peter didn’t know it, but Hook poisoned his Wendy’s medicine, so that when he drank it…”

 

The Peter dancer did some spins and hand motions, then pretended to take a drink. The Tinkerbell dancer ‘broke free’ of her cage and rushed forward between Peter and the medicine. She collapsed to the ground, and Peter stayed still. The other dancers dropped to their knees.

 

“Tinkerbell was dying of poison with no cure—one that comes from pure hatred and malice. At least, that’s what was always believed.”

 

Peter touched Tinkerbell’s face. He danced around her, and Barry could hear a whisper in the back of his head— _I do believe in fairies…_

 

“Peter’s belief and love for Tinkerbell brought her back to life,” Iris continued, “even if he didn’t know what it was at the time.”

 

A hand rested on his, and Barry glanced over to see Len stroking his fingers along Barry’s skin, his attention locked on the performance. Barry resisted the urge to blush.

 

The performance continued with Tinkerbell coming back, the pair facing off against the pirates to save the Lost Boys and Wendy, and then the fight that ensued. Finally, Hook fell and Wendy left with the Lost Boys.

 

Barry frowned. “I don’t understand. There are Lost Boys here. How did they get back?”

 

“They didn’t,” Iris answered. “One—Mick Rory—stayed behind with Peter, but all others came right after the Lost Boys left. One is actually a Native, my uncle...you know him as ‘The Kid’.”

 

Barry vaguely remembered him being mentioned in the books. “And they just show up?”

 

Iris nodded. “They used to. But that was when there was magic in the island. Now, it’s starting to die out, little by little.”

 

That tore at Barry’s heart. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

 

‘There is.” Iris turned to look him straight in the eye. “Belief is the most powerful magic there is, Barry. Even if you don’t think you’re Tinkerbell reincarnated, you must know that you’re a fairy, deep down. All you have to do is believe in something with all your heart, just like Pan did when he brought Tinkerbell back to life. With your power, though...who knows what could happen?”

 

They looked back just as the performance concluded, and the Natives rose from their seats. Barry and Len stood up too, both looking around with uncertainty.

 

“What’s going on?” Len asked.

 

Iris smiled. “We all dance now. The magic flows under the mountain, and when the entire tribe dances together, you can feel it pulsing beneath the village. With you and Pan here, it should make for an interesting experience.”

 

The Natives all gathered around the fire and began their dance. There were no set moves, only a set rhythm that seemed to come naturally to them all. Barry tried to join, but he had two left feet with dances he _knew._ With something like this…

 

Someone stepped up behind him and took him by the waist. “Just move with me, Scarlet,” Len whispered into his ear. They both started to sway and move together, following the beat and music of the island. When Barry glanced back at Len, his eyes were closed like he was lost in the music himself.

 

Barry used the opportunity to turn in his arms, so they were face to face. “So,” he whispered, “are you sure this your first Neverland Native Magic Dance Celebration?”

 

Len opened his eyes and huffed out a laugh. “Honest to god. I must be a natural.”

 

“Must undoubtedly,” Barry agreed. “You seem to just. get this place. Do...do _you_ remember?”

 

“Being Peter Pan? No. But I have feelings and dreams and deja vu. It takes me a bit to put the pieces together, but I’m an author. It’s what I do.”

 

He couldn’t argue with that. The rhythm carried them with the other dancers until Barry laid his head on Len’s chest and sighed contently. He wanted to go home, but he also wanted to stay right there in Len’s arms for as long as he could.

 

Len rested his head on top of Barry’s, and for a second, Barry was back in that cave under the mountain, staring at the stars.

 

After nearly half an hour, the dancing finally ended, and when Barry looked around, the grass was a little greener and the air a little fresher.

 

—————

 

The tent they were given wasn’t as nice as the others around camp. Instead of multiple colors, the walls were made of a muted orange colored cloth. It was really only big enough to walk inside and sleep in, which Len supposed was all they needed anyway. Len was trembling with anticipation. It wasn’t that he expected anything from Barry—he was a little preoccupied to be focused on his love life—but the thought of them laying together in the privacy of their own tent gave him all kinds of fantasies, especially after that dance.

When Barry laid out the bedroll he’d been given so that the head was at Len’s feet, and Len couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“This ain’t a sixth grade, boy/girl sleepover, y’know.”

 

Barry glared. “I know that.”

 

“Then what’s up with the head-to-toe set up here?” Len asked. “Unless you’re afraid I’m going try something.”

 

Barry rolled his eyes. “I just thought it’d be more comfortable is all, but if you’re going to make a big deal out of it…” He picked up the bedroll, spun it around the other way, and flopped it back to the floor. “There. Happy?”

 

Just to be an asshole, Len moved his bedroll so that it was touching the edge of Barry’s. “Much better.”

 

Barry rolled his eyes and collapsed on his back. “Chief Iris says that she can help us get home.”

 

Len turned on his side to face Barry, hanging on his words.

 

“But,” Barry continued, “either I need to tap into my fairy stuff or we have to find the Hidden Grove. Both of which seem...impossible.”

 

Len frowned. “Barry, you saved us from the mermaids. You levitated five feet in the air. You convinced a bunch of rightfully suspicious people they could trust us. I think you’ve thrown impossible out the window. I believe in you.”

 

Barry turned his head so their eyes met. There was something behind his—hope, belief...maybe something more.

 

He reached forward to touch Barry’s face—gently and unsure. He waited for Barry to move away, but instead, he leaned into the touch.

 

“I’m not Tinkerbell,” he whispered, like that meant anything to Len. He didn’t want Tinkerbell—he wanted Barry Allen, right here and right now. _His_ fairy.

 

He leaned forward and pressed their lips together. He thought about how he seduced and charmed other people—teasing and putting them right on the edge until they begged for more. He didn’t want that with Barry. He didn’t want to think about anyone else. He wanted to have something special, something with meaning.

 

He didn’t delve deeper when Barry gasped against his lips. He didn’t push closer or move to touch him more. He pulled away, looking back at Barry with every ounce of emotion he was feeling, laying all his cards on the table.

 

Barry rolled onto his side and kissed him back, deeply and passionately. Len moved his hands, though it wasn’t to cop a feel like he usually would. It was to slide down his back and pull them even closer together, so Barry’s head was rested against Len’s arm.

 

They kissed like that for a few minutes, both enjoying the intimacy and love that was blossoming between them before Barry pulled away. “I’m scared for you.”

 

Len frowned. That wasn’t what most people wanted to hear during a makeout session. “Why, Scarlet? Nothing’s gonna happen to me.”

 

“Hunter...he’s crazy,” Barry explained. “And he hates you. What if he gets to us? What’s going to happen?”

 

Len’s first instinct was to be reassuring—to tell Barry that everything was going to be okay. He couldn’t lie, though. That’s not what Barry needed to hear. He sighed. “Hook is a sociopath. Given the chance, he will almost definitely kill me. What he has planned for you...I don’t know, Barry. All I do know is that I’ll die before I let him get to you.”

 

A few different expressions passed over Barry’s face, but the most important one was conviction. He brought their lips together yet again, only this time, Barry was the one touching Len. He wrapped one arm around Len’s neck and snaked a leg between his thighs. Suddenly, Len was being pulled on top of Barry, laying across his lithe body while they kissed ferociously.

 

Len pulled back for a second. “Barry…” he gasped, “fuck…”

 

“That was kind of where I was going with this,” Barry whispered back. There was passion in his eyes, but also a bit of fear and nervousness.

 

Any other time, Len would’ve gone for it. He would’ve run his hands down Barry’s body, stripped him, and absolutely ruined him for anyone else. Instead, he took Barry’s wrist and pulled his hand away, pressing a kiss on the inside of his wrist.

 

“Not because of the adrenaline, Barry,” he said. “And not in a tent surrounded by sleeping Natives. We almost died _a lot._ You’re afraid we won’t get another chance because of Hook. Neither of those are good reasons to rush into this. Trust me--it’s killing me inside saying this. But not tonight.”

 

The desperation on Barry’s face slid away to something else--respect, maybe, or even that difficult word that Len had only ever said to Lisa. Either way, it was beautiful and terrifying all at once. He wrapped an arm around Barry’s waist and pulled him close, so his head was pillowed by Len’s chest.

 

“Go to sleep,” he whispered, moving his hand to gently stroke Barry’s hair. “For the first time, we’re safe. Safe to wait until tomorrow.”

 

Barry snuggled closer, and Len actually felt a warm blush growing across his cheeks. Instead of dwelling on the warmth settling in his stomach, though, or the big word hanging above them, he closed his eyes and gave into the peace of sleeping with someone who meant something.

 

\----------

 

Barry fell asleep almost immediately after being pulled into Len’s arms. He wasn’t sure what to think of the night’s events. He’d really thought that Len--Mr. Love-Em-and-Leave-Em, slept with most of his book groupies--had been pushing for more. Barry would’ve been okay with it. After the past few days they’d had, it didn’t sound like a bad idea at all. But then, Len said no, and not because he didn’t want to. He wanted it to be the right time.

 

Somehow, that made the whole situation even better. Barry’s heart fluttered at the thought of Len thinking he was special enough to make their time together mean something. He’d never felt safer or warmer than he felt in Len’s arms.

 

He woke up in the middle of the night--or was it early morning? --confused. Something had woken him. Something...uncomfortable.

 

Barry sat up and shook Len’s shoulder, but his partner continued to snore and slumber. Then, Barry saw it. There was a shadow outside of the tent. Someone was outside, spying on them. He rose slowly to his feet and crept to the door of the tent. For a second, he wished that he had a weapon, but that was pushed away. They were in the Native village--no one bad could get to them.

 

When he stepped outside, however, his blood went cold.

 

Hunter was standing a few feet away, dressed in the clothes he wore back on Earth, a small smile on his face. “Hello, Barry. I thought that you and I should have another discussion.”

 

Barry stumbled back. He couldn’t be in the village. It was impossible. Why wouldn’t he have brought his whole crew and burned it to the ground? “I don’t want anything to do with you,” he spat. “You tried to kill me and Len.”

 

Hunter sighed. “Technically, I was only trying to kill Pan, but I can see why you would think I was trying to kill you, too.”

 

Barry prepared himself--to scream or to fight, he wasn’t sure--but then, he paused. “Wait...you called me ‘Barry’.”

 

Hunter nodded and approached. “I did. I’ve realized something--you aren’t who I thought. Of course, you’re still the last living fairy. You’re still hopelessly lost on Pan. But you aren’t Tinkerbell. You’re something better. You’re Barry Allen.”

 

He resisted the urge to blush. It was no secret he’d harbored a small crush on Hunter before he found out about Neverland and Hook and the look he was giving him made the broken pieces of that crush perk up. It wasn’t an obsessed look, like before. Instead, it was kind, interested, like Barry was a book that he wanted to read and memorize every page of. He had to remind himself why Hunter was bad news--he didn’t really want Barry, just the power he could claim from him.

 

He sneered at the pirate. “How are you here? How did you find us?”

 

Hunter arched an eyebrow. “What? Oh, I didn’t. This is just a little enchantment I conjured using my remaining pixie dust. I have no idea where this is or where you are.” He glanced around them. “I’m assuming it’s the Native village, but that’s been hidden from us for years. No, I’m a projection in your dreams. You’re still asleep, cuddled in Pan’s arms.”

 

He strolled over to the open flap of the tent and peeked inside. Barry followed his gaze to Len being a big spoon for Barry’s sleeping form, his arms tight around his waist. Hunter clicked his tongue. “Adorable. Completely delusional, but adorable.”

 

Barry scoffed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“I don’t?” Hunter asked. “Have you even met that man? I’ve known him for hundreds of years, and if there’s one thing I can tell you, Barry, it’s that you’re not important to him. No one is important to Pan, and if anyone ever was, it’s Wendy Darling.”

 

That name burned his stomach.

 

“You know I’m right,” Hunter continued. “Think about it. Did Pan save Tiger Lily from me because of her, or because Wendy’s brothers were in trouble? Did he wish Tinkerbell back to life because he cared, or because he needed her to save Wendy? He plays with people like they’re games.”

 

Barry shook his head. “No,” he argued. “That’s not true. He knows who I am, and he cares about me. There’s nothing I can give him…”

 

“...except the Hidden Grove.”

 

Barry’s mouth closed with a click. Hunter’s smile grew. “He doesn’t remember where it is, meaning that you, being a fairy with an instinctual bond to the island, are the only one who can find it.”

 

“Why would Len need the grove?” The question was for himself, but Hunter decided to answer it for him anyway.

 

“Because he has no more pixie dust.” Hunter shrugged. “It’s that simple. The dust has a bit of an addictive quality to it, in some ways. When you’re tied to it like Pan, it can consume you. His connection to the island is dwindling. He needs that dust. He’s using you like he’s used everyone else.”

 

Barry frowned. He thought about how nice Len had suddenly started being to him, the kisses, the compliments. Was it all some big seduction?

 

Wait, why was he listening to Hunter about this?

 

“You don’t have to believe me,” Hunter said, backing away from the tent. “But I’m assuming that Chief Iris will try to trigger your memories at some point. If you remember, Pan will still push to go after the grove. He doesn’t care about you going home.”

 

Hunter reached out and brushed his knuckles up Barry’s cheek. “It doesn’t matter, though. I’m giving up my quest for the dust. I actually really enjoyed being Hunter Zolomon. I’m going back to Earth tomorrow evening. I will gladly take you home as well. It’s your choice, though.”

 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something--a necklace with an arrow charm on it. He stepped closer cautiously and draped it around Barry’s neck. “If you decide to come, that will lead you to my ship. You can come on board, and I will escort you home.”

 

Barry scowled. “And Len?”

 

“I won’t touch a hair on his head.” Hunter made a cross over his heart with his hook. “I swear to you. If you come to me, I will spare his life. He’s not going to leave--not when this island is his own personal playground.”

 

He stepped away. “Think about it.” The village around him began to disappear in puffs of shimmering smoke.

 

Barry shot up with a gasp, only to find himself back in the tent, the rising sunlight barely peeking through the tent. Len groaned and raised his head, his eyes slowly blinking open. “Barry…? You okay?”

 

He swallowed hard and tried to catch his breath. “Yeah. Yeah, just a dream.”

 

Len frowned but didn’t question it. Instead, he sat up and pressed a kiss to Barry’s cheek. “C’mon. Since we’re up, we may as well get cleaned up and find Iris. Maybe some breakfast will make you feel better.”

 

Barry nodded, but when he looked down, he knew nothing would help his mood. There was an arrow necklace around his neck.

  

  
  
  



	7. If less is more, there's no end to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. Disney has been keeping me busy. I hope this chapter is worth it :) it's kind of a filler, but it's also super important.

> > _" Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time." _
> 
> ** — Peter Pan **
> 
>  
> 
> ** ~~~~***~~~~ **

 

Barry was standoffish from Len the entire morning following their amazing--if Len said so himself--make out session. It was strange--he’d expected Barry to be one of those affectionate people who wanted to sneak kisses and hold hands whenever he could. 

 

Instead, when they arrived at Iris’ tent, he stood nearly two yards away from him. He didn’t look at Len unless he thought Len wasn’t paying attention, which he was. There was something in his eye--confusion, guilt, thoughtfulness. He was playing with an arrow pendant that was around his neck--how long had he had that? -- and he was lost in his own thoughts of something. Maybe the dream that had woken him up? 

 

Before he could ask, Iris exited her tent, dressed the multi-colored pelts of Neverland creatures with a pack on her back. There was a crown of irises on her head. She carried a bag on her shoulder and a bowl in her hand. When Barry saw her, he smiled in a way that burned in Len’s chest. 

 

“Ready to remember who you were?” she asked Barry, who grimaced slightly. 

 

“It’s not going to like, get rid of  _ me,  _ is it?” 

 

Iris shook her head. “When performed correctly, no. All I intend to do is help you remember what happened in your past life, not replace the memories you already have of this one.” She took him by the hand. “You already have the ability to do wondrous things. You just need to remember how.”

 

The anger inside of him burned. He quickly slid over closer to Barry. “Let’s get started, then. The sooner he remembers, the sooner we can get home and be safe.”

 

Some of the tension in Barry’s body melted a bit, and a warm smile grew across his lips. “I agree. So, how are we going to do this?” 

 

“First,” she explained, “we have to go somewhere sacred. Somewhere still touched by fairy magic.” 

 

Len raised an eyebrow. “And you know exactly where a place like that is?”

 

Iris smiled and shrugged. “I have an idea.” She strode past Len like the chief she was, and he hated the way Barry watched her with awe. 

 

He must have been glaring because Barry frowned when he caught his eye. “What’s that all about?”

 

Len dug his hands in his pockets and trudged off behind her. “Nothing,” he grumbled. 

 

\----------

 

Instead of leading them back into the mountain, Iris took them down a hidden path that led to the summit. Before they got that far, however, she took a hard right and they continued through the forest lining the mountainside. Finally, she stopped outside of a smaller cave than the ones they entered the mountain from. It was just big enough for three people to settle in comfortably.

 

Iris took a seat on the ground. Barry and Len followed. “So,” Len asked, raising an eyebrow, “what are we doing here?”

 

Iris held out her arms. “This is where Barry’s essence was born--where Peter Pan’s first laugh turned into Tinkerbell. His strongest connection to the island is here.”

 

Barry could feel it. The way that the air flowed calmly. The pulse from the ground. He felt more at ease in the cave than he had his entire experience in Neverland. He sighed as the energy moved through him. 

 

“Yeah...yeah. The magic all seems so much stronger here.” 

 

Iris smiled, and if Barry hadn’t known better, he’d have thought that Len scootched closer to his side because of it. 

 

The chief reached into her bag and pulled out some twined herbs and a bottle of dry dust. “I need you to strip down,” she ordered. She pulled the large cork from the top and sprinkled some between them. Then, she handed it to Len. 

 

“Once he’s done, I need you to cover him in this. It will help him get in touch with the magic.” 

 

Both men stared at her, wide-eyed and confused, and Iris rolled her eyes. “Just do it.” 

 

Barry and Len looked to each other, and Barry shrugged. Immediately, he removed his shirt, then stood up to remove his pants. He was about to sit down in his boxer briefs when he saw the tight smile on Iris’ lips. 

 

“No…like all of it.” 

 

Len’s eyebrows shot up. A warm blush spread across Barry’s face and chest. The only people he’d ever been naked in front of were his parents and his doctor.  Now, he had two of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen staring at him expectedly. 

 

He blew out a breath and quickly jerked his underwear down and off, leaving himself completely exposed. He fell to the ground and curled his knees around himself, trying to cover his nakedness. It was so humiliating, being naked in front of both Len and Iris. But then, Len reached over and laid a hand on his knee, a small smile on his lips. 

 

“It’s okay,” he said. “Relax. It’s just us.” He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Barry’s lips, one hand stroking his shoulder. All the tension melted from Barry’s body, and for a moment, he forgot that he was sitting naked in a cave with Iris and Len. 

 

When Len pulled away, he nearly chased after his lips. Would have, if it hadn’t been for the smug smirk on his lips. Wordlessly, Len opened the pixie dust and poured some into his hand. It was dry and dead and black like ashes. 

 

Len started to systematically pour the dust through his fist. He started at Barry’s feet, moving slowly up so the dust fell on every bit of skin it could. He stopped at Barry’s hip and started on the next leg, looking into Barry’s eyes as he inched higher and higher. It was so intimate feeling, he was almost embarrassed that Iris was watching.

 

Len moved up from his legs and crawled behind him, dropping the dust down his shoulders and chest, covering his arms, and spreading some across his back. Finally, Len whispered for him to close his eyes as he poured some on Barry’s head, letting it spread through his hair and catching on his eyelashes. Barry fought the instinct to sneeze, and he pouted when he heard Len chuckling behind him. Another kiss was planted on his lips, only to be stolen away quickly. 

 

No one told Barry to open his eyes, so he kept them closed, even as Len moved away. A chanting started from across him, and the dust covering his body started to warm. 

 

“West…” Len said, “that’s supposed to happen, right?” 

 

Iris didn’t stop her chanting to answer. The dust warmed up even more--not painful, but enough to be uncomfortable--and Barry hissed. 

 

“Stop!” Len shouted. “You’re burning him!” 

 

Iris didn’t. She continued her chants, raising her voice louder until it was all Barry could hear. Suddenly, a light burst behind his eyes, and he was free falling. 

 

It was Neverland, but tamer. A place of fun and laughter. He was flying through the trees, his laughs like tinkling bells. 

 

_ “That’s good, Barry,”  _ he could hear Iris saying far away.  _ “You’re remembering what being a fairy is like. Now, you need to get in touch with Tinkerbell. Find her purpose.”  _

 

He took a deep breath. What was her purpose? To bring magic? To protect the island? 

 

No. It was far simpler than that. He thought about a child. A bratty child--one who played war, who crowed, who could simultaneously be the most selfish and selfless human being on the island. The one who had breathed life into her. 

 

“Peter…” he whispered, and a laugh cut through the forest. He followed joyfully, his laughs jingling until he finally came to one of the rocky shores of the island. On one such rock say a boy no older than thirteen. His legs were crossed, and he was playing the pan flute draped around his neck. He stopped playing and turned the Barry, a bright smile on his face. Familiar icy blue eyes met his. Thirteen-years-old or not, Barry knew Len when he saw him.

 

“Heya, Tink,” he said, and Barry felt the magic in his body spike.

 

\----------

 

Barry’s body was glowing like a lightbulb. Pixie dust was jumping off of him. It made Len nervous. 

 

“Is this okay?” he asked for what was probably the nineteenth time. 

 

Iris rolled her eyes. “Yes. I promise that the second that it isn’t, I will let you know.”

 

Len glared at her, ready to come back with a snappy reply, but before he could, Barry flinched violently, his entire body trembling. The lights around him started to flicker, and Len rushed to his side. 

 

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t know,” Iris replied. “Something is interfering.”

 

\----------

 

Barry was sitting with Peter, smiling and laughing, when suddenly, the world around him started to disintegrate. Then, he was falling again, scenes playing in front of his eyes like a movie he couldn’t turn away from. 

 

He was hiding behind the tents in the Native Camp. Tiger Lily and Peter danced together, celebrating their victories against the pirates. In a moment of glee, she gave him a small kiss on the lips. 

 

Wendy was laying in the middle of a clearing, an arrow in the acorn “kiss” around her neck. Peter was furious, coming at him with a vicious sneer.  _ “Tinkerbell...I banish you forever!”  _

 

He was sitting on a tree trunk, too heartbroken to join the other fairies in their dance. When he saw Wendy and Peter floating through the trees in their own dance, the remaining pieces of his heart shattered.

 

_ “Evil day…” He turned to see Hook beside him, watching the same scene. He has found himself a... a…” _

 

_ “Wendy.” _

 

_ Hook’s attention went to him. “Wendy? And here a lonely pirate sits, watching with envy of it…” _

 

_ Barry huffed, and a small smile ticked on Hook’s lips. “Don't tell me that Pan's turned you away for a Wendy. Giving up a diamond for a skipping rock?” He tsked and held out his hook. "Come now, Miss Bell. Let's have a chat." _

 

Trapped in a lantern, beating on the glass as Hook prepared to attack the Lost Boy's hideout. 

 

Drinking Hook’s poison to save Peter. Peter saving him, only to go back and save Wendy yet again.

 

Jane coming to Neverland. Peter’s constant, neverending flirtations.

 

Finally, Barry hit the ground, his freefall coming to an end. He was in the tunnels in the mountains. No, not the tunnels--a cave in the center of the labyrinth. There were trees growing all around him, the blue glow from the leaves brightening the entire cave. 

 

“At long last…” He spun around to see Hunter’s right hand and the rest of the pirates standing in the cave entrance. The woman was smiling gleefully. “Thank you, Pan, for showing us exactly where it was.”

 

\----------

 

Barry opened his eyes with a sharp gasp. He was laying out on the cave floor now, his head in Len’s lap while Iris sprinkled some kind of flower over him. Both froze the second he woke up. 

 

“Barry!” Iris exclaimed. “Are you okay? Something went wrong…”

 

“Y’think?” Len snarled, pulling Barry closer to him. An hour ago, he may have leaned into the touch, reveled in it. Now, he jerked away and sat up, not even looking at Len. 

 

“I was shown things,” he said, standing up and hurrying over to his pants. “The pirates...I saw them with the dust.”

 

He yanked on his pants and grabbed for his shirt next, but Len caught his wrist. “Slow down, Barry. What do you mean you saw Hook with the dust?”

 

Barry shook his head. “Hunter wasn’t there. Just the others.” For a second, the pendant around his neck chilled. Did that mean that Hunter was telling the truth about leaving? What else was he telling the truth about? 

 

“But you saw the grove,” Len said. “You found it.”

 

Barry nodded. “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. Without me, they can’t use the dust anyway. If we get off the island, everyone will be safe, and we can get the hell outta here.” 

 

To prove his point, Barry focused on Tinkerbell--on the fairy inside of him--and his feet lifted off the floor. He only hovered for a second before dropping back down. “We can fly away and leave Neverland behind forever. Just like Tink and Pan intended, only this time, we can go somewhere Hunter will never find us.” 

 

“But he  _ will _ ,” Len argued. “He always does. The only way we win is to stop Hook, and the only way to do that is by getting to the dust before he does.” He grabbed Barry by the shoulders. Barry, where is the grove?” 

 

He pulled away sharply, forgetting the shirt as Hunter’s words from the night before echoed in his head-- _ “His connection to the island is dwindling. He needs that dust. He’s using you like he’s used everyone else.”  _

 

Without another word, Barry turned and ran, taking to the air the second he was clear of the cave. He could hear Iris and Len yelling behind him, but he didn’t care. He needed to get away. 

 

\----------

 

Len didn’t understand why Barry ran. He didn’t need to. All he needed to do was find him. He and Iris split up, Iris taking the jungle and Len taking the valley. As he trekked through the underbrush, he thought back on what he’d said, desperate to find what had set Barry off. 

 

Was it about looking for the grove? Why would that upset Barry? If anyone on the island wanted to keep that dust away from Hook, he’d think it’d be Barry. Hook was crazy and obsessive. He hated the idea of Barry being on his radar, much less being part of his entire plan. 

 

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the sound of moving water nearby. He froze, considering his options. If Barry  _ wasn’t  _ there, it’s not like he was in any worse shape than he was now. Sighing, Len crept towards the water, which roared louder the closer he came. 

 

There was a small waterfall off the edge of a cliff that fell into a spring. Barry sat on a rock just in front of the fall, his shoulders shaking. He was crying, Len realized. He was crying because of some stupid thing that Len said or did. Why was it that he was constantly hurting the man he was slowly falling in love with? 

 

“Barry.”

 

The young man stiffened and glanced behind him. His face was red and blotchy, and he was holding the charm around his neck in his hand. He quickly wiped his tears away with the back of his other hand. 

 

“Go away, Len,” he called back. “Just...just go.”

 

Len shook his head. “I’m not leaving you here, Barry.” He kicked off his shoes and started to remove his shirt. 

 

Barry frowned. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

Len shrugged. “Coming after you.” He peeled off his pants, leaving only his boxer shorts on, and Barry’s redness turned into a blush. 

 

“No…” he said weakly, turning his back to Len. “No. Just go.” 

 

When did Len ever listen to anyone? He waded out into the spring, swimming once his feet no longer touched the bottom. The second he arrived at the rock, Barry looked over his shoulder at him. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Len asked. “You were fine last night, but now, it’s like the thought of my existence hurts you. You’ve been avoiding me all morning, and now...I don’t know what I did to offend you. Talk to me, Barry.” 

 

Barry shook his head. “I don’t want to talk, Len.”

 

“Fine.” A devilish smile grew on Len’s lips. “Then don’t.” Without warning, he lunged forward and grabbed Barry by the upper arm. Then, they were both falling into the spring. He couldn’t help it. Something about Neverland brought out his playful side, especially when he and Barry were together.

 

He laughed as Barry popped out of the water like a cork, a glare leveled at him. “Really? Very mature, Len.”

 

“You’re the one who started it with the Quiet Game,” Len shot back with a smile. Barry narrowed his eyes, a sparkle of mischief behind them. He sunk into the water enough that his mouth was covered, then shot up, spitting a stream of spring water into Len’s face. He laughed at the bewildered expression Len gave him and darted away before he could get his revenge. 

 

Len followed with a laugh, splashing at Barry, who threw water back. Barry darted behind the waterfall and into a cave hidden there. Len stumbled in behind him, laughing breathlessly. He stopped inches away from Barry, their chests heaving as their laughter faded. 

 

Len reached out slowly to brush his fingers against Barry’s cheek. “Barry...please tell me what’s wrong. Tell me how I can fix whatever I’ve broken.”

 

Barry sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. “In my vision, I saw some of Tinkerbell’s memories. All the times you...or Peter or whatever chose some cutesy girl who doted on you over the person who was next to you, one who died for you. It made me think about your reputation back home as Mr. Love-Em-and-Leave-Em.”

 

Barry turned his face away from Len’s touch. “I’m not Tinkerbell, but I’m also not Tiger Lily, or Wendy, or Jane. I’m not going to dote on you. I’m not going to treat you like you’re some amazing mythical creature or something. I don’t want that--I want Len, the writer who I met all those years ago at that dumb party. And if that’s not enough for you…”

 

Len had heard enough. Barry didn’t know it, but he’d told Len everything he needed to hear: Barry loved him for him, not because of Pan, but because of Leonard Snart. 

 

He stepped forward and grabbed Barry’s shoulders. Without another word, he lunged forward to bring their lips together. Barry let out a surprised sound but didn’t turn away or pull back. Instead, he moved closer, throwing one hand over Len’s shoulder while grabbing the back of his head with the other. 

 

Barry arched his back, and Len dipped him low, not daring break the heated kiss even as he lowered Barry to the cave floor. Barry moaned as his back hit the floor, and Len finally pulled away, just far enough that he could see the passion and mix of emotions in Barry’s eyes. 

 

“I just want you,” he whispered. “In New York, in Neverland, in Wonderland, I don’t care.” 

 

A tear dropped from the corner of Barry’s eye, and he surged up to continue their kiss, his hands going to the last bits of fabric separating them. 

  
  
  



	8. To die will be an awfully big adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end for warnings

> _**“The man is not wholly evil – he has a Thesaurus in his cabin.”** _

**-J.M Barrie**

~~~****~~~

 

The Native trail was well hidden, but there were ways to find it if you knew what you were looking for. The crew crept out of the trees as quietly as possible, hoping they wouldn’t come across any Natives--they didn’t exactly have the strongest relationship, after all.

 

Pan and the fairy’s trail was getting cold, but there were some strong trackers among them. No one could hide from them for long.

 

Lance whistled to her crew, pointing them towards the mountain.

 

\----------

  


Barry hummed happily, his head pillowed against Len’s naked chest. They were still laying in the cave, listening to the waterfall splashing down in front of them. He knew that they’d have to get up eventually, but for now, he was warm and safe. Something niggled in the back of his mind, however, throwing off his calm.

 

“Len?” he whispered. He heard a hum of acknowledgment. “I don’t think we should go after the grove.”

 

He felt Len sit up a little but kept his eyes lowered. “Just...I have a bad feeling about it. Something’s not right. I...I want us to go home. I want to go back to writing my reviews and leave Neverland behind in a book.”

 

A hand came up and softly stroked the back of Barry’s head. “I’m sorry. You were dragged into this because of me. This is all my fault.”

 

Barry rolled over to lay across Len’s chest and look him in the eye. “None of this is on you, Len. Why would you think that?”

 

Len sighed. “Because Hook is always trying to take away what Peter loves. If it hadn’t been for the way I feel about you…”

 

Barry scowled and reached up to press his fingers to Len’s lips. “No. That’s stupid. Hunter tracked me down on Earth _before_ you came to Neverland. He was stalking me, not you. This is on him.”

 

“Hook is a crazy, obsessive psychopath,” Len said. “Do you honestly think he’ll leave us alone, even if we go home and he finds the grove? He wants us dead, and if he gets his hands on pixies dust, he’ll be unstoppable. If we find the grove and give it to the Natives, we have a chance.”

 

“But what if we leave and he never finds it?” Barry argued. “What if we go back to New York, back to your penthouse, and find out how Pan and Tinkerbell’s story ends?”

 

His voice was so desperate, but what choice did they have? “I want to go home before I get killed by pirates or mermaids or Natives or Lost Boys or Neverbirds…”

 

“We haven’t even seen a Neverbird.”

 

“No, but they’re vicious meat eaters that will pick flesh right off the bone in seconds!” Barry sat up and pulled his naked knees to his chest. “I don’t want to die here. I don’t want _you_ to die here.”

 

For a second, his hand fell to the pendant around his neck. He thought about Hunter’s offer...but he knew that Len wasn’t part of the deal. He’d only agree if it was both of them or neither.

 

Len’s hand reached out in front of him touched his knee. “Barry, what’s really bothering you? Something’s been off since you woke up this morning. I want to help, but I can only do that if you let me.”

 

Barry bit his lip, his hand tightening around the pendant. Len needed to know. He had to know about Hunter’s deal and his warning. Before he could even think of where to begin, however, there was a splashing behind them, and Iris came running into the cave, Barry’s shirt in her hand.

 

“Oh, thank the fairies I found... _oh god!”_ She quickly turned away from them, using Barry’s shirt to block her peripherals.

 

Barry grabbed his pants and covered himself, blushing wildly.

 

Iris cleared her throat. “Sorry. I was worried and I heard Barry yelling and...now I realize why.”

 

It didn’t help Barry’s blush, but a proud smirk grew on Len’s lips. Barry swatted at his arm before yanking his pants on. Len sighed but did the same, and a few moments later, until both were mostly clothed.

 

“You’re good now,” he told the chief, who turned around sheepishly.

 

“Thank the fairies,” she replied. She turned back around and threw Barry his shirt, which he quickly threw on. “Now that we’re all...together...again, may I suggest we decide our next move?”

 

A whistle pierced Barry’s ears. He flinched against the harsh noise, but the others didn’t seem affected at all. _Great,_ he thought, _another fairy thing._

 

The whistle devolved into a chorus of bells, twinkling and singing at the end of the cave. Barry frowned--there were words in the bells.

 

_Hello, sister._

 

_Come, sister._

 

_Welcome home._

 

He jerked harshly. Len was grabbing his elbow, keeping him from walking any further into the cave...when had he started doing that?

 

“Barry?” Len asked. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

 

He nodded in reply. “I think...I think I need to go deeper into the cave.”

 

Len and Iris shared a look. “Um, Barry?” Iris said. “There’s nothing in here. We’ve scouted all of these small caves trying to find the grove. It goes on for a bit and dead ends.”

 

 _Sister…_ he heard the whisper on the wind. _We’ve waited for you…_

 

“No.” He shook his head. “There’s something in here.”

 

Barry continued into the cave, the whispers leading him further into the dark. He could hear Len and Iris hurrying after him. The cave did end like Iris had said, about half a mile in, but another whisper told Barry to take a sharp right. Neverland led his feet to the far wall, and he raised his hand to the stone.

 

The second his skin touched the cold rock, it melted away into a burst of pixie dust. Len and Iris gasped, but Barry was more amazed by what was on the other side. It was exactly like his dream--the room was dark, but there were black trees that reached up to the roof of the large cavern. The trees were lit up with blue dust that twinkled and danced around the tops.

 

The Hidden Grove was more beautiful than he could’ve ever imagined. It was like the night sky had been captured inside the walls of the cave, and the trees were lit up with Christmas lights.

 

Iris approached slowly, falling to her knees and whispering a prayer in the Native language.

 

A low whistle rang out. “Now what?” Len whispered, stepping up beside him.

 

Barry shrugged. “Do we just take some dust? Would that work?” He looked at Iris, who was staring wide-eyed at the trees around them.

 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, exclaiming something in her language. She rose back to her feet and tore her eyes away to look back at Barry. “Maybe... maybe you have to summon it. I’m not sure--it’s been decades since we’ve handled dust.”

 

Barry frowned. He approached the trees cautiously, noticing the way the lights brightened the closer he came.

 

A bang echoed through the cavern. Barry was knocked to the ground as a bullet zipped over his head and struck the tree in front of him.

 

“Are you okay?” Len hissed in his ear. Barry gave a quick nod as he rolled Len off of him and rose to his feet.

 

A group of pirates stood in the entryway of the cave, led by a beautiful blonde woman in all black. Hunter’s right hand.

 

His heart seized. Just like his vision.

 

“At long last,” she said, grinning wildly. “Thank you, Pan, for showing us _exactly_ where it was.”

 

Len snarled, grabbing Barry’s arm and pushing him behind him. Iris reached into her boot and drew a long, curved knife. “How did you find us?”

 

They were so focused on the attack at the doors, they weren’t prepared for the one behind them. Barry gasped as a strong arm wrapped around his torso and a sharp point pressed against his throat.

 

Len whipped back around, his eyes wide in fear and anger. Hunter chuckled. “Oh, Barry,” he said, dipping his hook down to catch the chain around his neck, “you should’ve come with me. Then, I wouldn’t have had to track you all the way here.”

 

“You tricked me,” he hissed. He jerked in Hunter’s arms, but his grip stayed firm.

 

“I gave you a chance,” Hunter whispered close to his ear. “A chance to be with me without all this. But you always have to do things the hard way, don’t you? Look what you’ve done.”

 

He turned his attention back to Len and Iris. “Drop your weapon and surrender.” He moved the hook back to Barry’s throat to make a point. Iris sneered but dropped the knife to the cave floor. Two pirates--Mardon and Bivolo--grabbed her by the arms and restrained her. A larger pirate did the same to Len.

 

Hunter laughed. “Gents, we have our treasure!” The rest of the crew cheered, and, on Hunter’s orders, started to move through the trees, cutting branches and slicing pieces off them until the lights in the cave started to dim.

 

“No…” Barry struggled again. “No, stop! You’re killing them! You’re wiping out all the trees! Stop!”

 

“But why, Barry?” Hunter asked, finally releasing him enough to turn him around and face him. “This is what you’ve caused. All of this is because of you.”

 

Barry glared into the pirate’s eyes, all sympathy and affection for the man gone. “Asshole!”

 

A smile crept on Hunter’s lips. “Laurel!” he called. The woman in black approached and took over restraining Barry, while Hunter moved on to Len.

 

Len tried to lunge at him, but the large pirate held firm. Hunter clicked his tongue. “Pan, you should’ve learned by now not to trust a pretty face. Especially one who just wants to go home. This is, what, the third time you’ve fallen into this trap? Yet, somehow, none of you ever seem to realize it until I’m standing here, taunting you.”

 

“I’ll stop you,” Len swore. “I’ll die before I let you rule Neverland.”

 

Hunter didn’t reply, instead just staring amused at Len. Laurel was the one who finally broke the silence, dragging Barry forward so she could speak to the captain.

 

“Do we take them back to the ship while the others finish with the dust?”

 

Hunter’s eyes stayed locked on Len. “Not quite. There’s still one last thing I need to take care of.” He looked to the large pirate, who released Len and moved back. Something sour settled in Barry’s stomach, but before he could shout a warning, Hunter lunged forward, jamming his hook deep into Len’s stomach.

 

A broken scream echoed through the cave, and it took a minute for Barry to realize it came from him. Len seemed just as surprised as he was. He looked down at the hook for a second, not quite registering that it was inside of him until his legs gave out.

 

Hunter caught him before he hit the floor, keeping him standing just enough that Barry could see the blood starting to leak from his mouth. Hunter reached into his pocket and pulled out an empty vial.

 

“No you don’t,” he said, patting Len’s face as his eyes started to shut. “Keep those eyes open, Pan.” He grabbed Len by the chin and turned his face so he was staring at Barry. “Look at him. _Look.”_

At first, Barry thought he was talking to him, but then, Hunter leaned in closer to Len. “Look at him, crying for you, about the life you’re never going to have together.”

 

Was Barry crying? How had he not noticed that?

 

Len’s head started to loll to the side, and Hunter shook him to wake him up. “Look at him!” he growled, and Len’s eyes snapped open. They locked with Barry’s, and a single tear dropped from Len’s eye.

 

Hunter pressed the vial to Len’s cheek, catching the tear inside. He dropped Len to the floor with a smirk, stopping the vial and slipping it back into his pocket.

 

Barry shook in Laurel’s hold. “Len?” he called out. “Len!” He fought to run to Len’s side, but Laurel held fast. She started dragging Barry out of the cave, along with the pirates holding Iris, but Barry

 

Hunter smiled down at Len’s bleeding out body, kicking him over so that all he could see in his last moments was the pirates taking Barry. Barry kicked and screamed and fought as hard as he could, but eventually, the pirates won.

 

Hook finally won.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character Death--Hunter kills someone


	9. My new obsession is you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end note for warnings ⚠️

> _**“What would mother think of my becoming a pirate?”** _
> 
> _**-** _ **Wendy Darling**

~~~****~~~

Pan’s body laid motionless on the ground. That much was clear. Something lurched in Mick’s heart at the sight, and all he could think was ‘we were too late’. 

 

He’d thought that by bringing the chief’s brother with them, they could catch up to Pan and the fairy before the pirates did. He’d been stupid and arrogant. He fell to his knees beside the dead body of his once best friend. 

 

Sara laid a hand on his shoulder. “Mick...I’m sorry, but we gotta get outta here before the pirates come back for the rest of the dust.”

 

Mick shook his head. “I can’t leave ‘im. Not after putting him here in the first place.” He grabbed at Pan, rolling him back over while Sara sighed. 

 

“Mick, he’s gone. There’s nothing else we can do.” 

 

“Like hell.” Mick was finally able to get him on his back, and he fell back. Pan’s entire front was covered in sparkling dust, most of it on the wound in his stomach. Sara rushed to Pan’s side and pressed two fingers to his pulse point. 

 

“He’s still alive!” she announced. Wally, who’d been hovering morosely at the entrance of the cave, ran over to help. “We need to get him back to camp. The pixie dust isn’t going to keep him alive long!” 

 

\----------

 

The Jolly Roger rocked dangerously under them. Ever since they stepped out of the cave, Neverland had started to change with the death of her king. The skies were gray. The ocean turned wicked. The Neverbirds screeched closer and closer to the paths as the pirates dragged Barry and Iris back to the ship. 

 

Now, sitting in the brig, Barry felt nothing. His tears were all shed. His heart was torn in two. All of his hope was gone, had disappeared the second Len’s body hit the ground. He was dead. Actually, truly dead.   
  


The pendant Hunter had given him was across the room, where Barry had thrown it the second they were locked inside. He was so stupid, so naive. He was the reason Len was dead. All because he trusted Hunter, trusted that he meant what he said and had worn the stupid tracker necklace into the one place he was supposed to protect. 

 

Iris threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to her side. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “We’ll escape, though. Once we get back to the village...”

 

“There’s nothing else we can do,” Barry cut her off, his voice void of any emotion. “Hunter is the King of Neverland. He has the Hidden Grove. It’s only a matter of time before he finds the Native trail and the Lost Boys hideout. It’s over.” 

 

Iris turned to him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek to turn his face towards hers. “You don’t believe that. There’s always a way. Pan may be dead, but we’re still alive. I say we use every bit of that life to fight back. For Len’s sake.” 

 

For a second, there was a glimmer of hope in him--even if he couldn’t save Len, he could avenge him--but a dark chuckle quickly dimmed it. Barry and Iris looked to the door to see Laurel, Mardon, and Bivolo watching them with amusement. 

 

“How adorable,” Laurel taunted, stalking into the brig. “But, ultimately, useless. The only way either of you are getting out of this alive is if he,” her eyes locked onto Barry, “does exactly as Hook says.”

 

Iris moved herself in front of Barry. “What does he want with Barry?” 

 

Laurel snapped her fingers, and Mardon approached with the keys. He unlocked the cell door, and Laurel stepped inside. “Right now, he wishes for the fairy to join him in his cabin.”

 

Mardon and Bivolo stood on either side of Laurel, ready to drag him out by whatever means necessary, but Barry didn’t care. He didn’t care what happened to him, what Hunter was planning. He just wanted it all to be over. Laying a reassuring hand on Iris’, he pulled from her grip and rose to his feet. 

 

A cold smile grew on Laurel’s lips. “I guess Hook was right--we don’t need force for you anymore.” She grabbed him by the arm and snatched him out of the cell, which Mardon shut behind them. 

 

Iris yelled after them, but Barry didn’t even fight Laurel as she dragged him through the ship, all the way to the Captain’s chambers. Without even knocking, she pushed open the door and forced him inside by the arm. 

 

Hunter was waiting for them, sitting in a black velvet chair positioned across from a scarlet red one, wearing an open-collared shirt on and an insufferable smirk. Barry would’ve wanted to kill him if he’d had any energy left in his body to try. Hunter pushed to his feet. 

 

“Leave us, but tell Mardon and Bivolo to stay by the door,” he ordered. Nodding, Laurel disappeared out the door. The smirk fell from his face the second the door clicked shut. “Barry…” he approached slowly, like Barry was a bomb or a wild animal, “I’m sorry it had to come to all of that. I’m sorry that you had to watch…” 

 

He laid a hand on Barry’s shoulder, and, with one last spurt of rage, he jerked away. “Don’t you say that you’re sorry when you’re the one who shoved a hook into his stomach. Don’t act like it was some kind of tragic accident. You  _ killed him _ .” 

 

Hunter sighed and shook his head. “You can blame me all you want, but we both know that I gave you a way to save him. If you’d come to me yourself, ‘Leonard Snart’ would still be alive and you’d be safe at home.” 

 

“That was just another lie,” Barry hissed. “Another manipulation. You wanted things to work out exactly as they did. So, congratulations--Pan is dead, the Chief of the Natives is in your brig, and the Hidden Grove is all yours. You’ve got everything you wanted. You won.” 

 

Hunter’s lips pulled into a thin line, and he strolled over to a cellarette, pulling out a decanter of wine. “Not everything.”

 

Barry scoffed. “What, being King of Neverland isn’t enough?”

 

A cold, humorless laugh echoed through the cabin, and Hunter shook his head. “You think that because Pan is dead that I’m the King now?” 

 

Well, he had...until he said that. Hunter turned to him with a soft smile. “I assume the Natives explained the island to you, during your stay with them.”

 

Barry huffed. “They say that the King of Neverland is connected to the island because of the magic of the fairies. I’m assuming the pixie dust.” 

 

Hunter didn’t reply, instead turning back to the cellarette. “There’s something powerful about love, wouldn’t you agree? I’ve never had anyone love me before, except my mother, who was murdered when I was a child. My father was abusive. He was arrested for my mother’s murder and put in prison until his death. I became a pirate because I craved something I couldn’t have, something I couldn’t put words to. I thought it was vengeance or power. When I took Tinkerbell from Pan all those years ago, I knew I wanted the level of devotion she had for him. I wanted someone to care for me as much.”

 

He pulled out two wine glasses. “It wasn’t until I met you--I met  _ Barry Allen _ \--that I realized what I wanted all those years. You invited me into your home so openly. You greeted me every morning with a bright smile, like you were always happy to see me. You had this look in your eyes whenever you saw me, something I’d only ever seen when Tinkerbell looked at Peter Pan--longing and hope. Only now, it was directed at me. I realized that’s what I wanted. I wanted to love and be loved. I was already halfway there at the time, but now I fear that my premature actions have forever turned you against me.”

 

It didn’t surprise him that, in Hunter’s twisted, warped mind, he thought he was in love with Barry. The way he hovered close to him, the anger in his eyes when he saw Len with Barry. But he still couldn’t figure out what any of that had to do with being King. 

 

Hunter huffed quietly. “You think that pixie dust is what makes someone the King of Neverland, but if that were true, everyone on the island would have that power.” He started to pour the wine into the glasses. “No, there is one thing needed to be king--the heart of a fairy.”

 

Barry choked on air. He stumbled backwards, his knees hitting the scarlet chair and knocking him into it. His eyes darted to the hook attached to Hunter’s wrist. 

 

The pirate followed his gaze and laughed. “I’m not going to rip your heart out, Barry. Going that route is tedious and honestly, something I would hate to do. Not when the simple solution is so much better.”

 

He steadied one of the glasses in his hook and grabbed the other, carrying them over to where Barry was sprawled. He sat one glass on the end table beside the scarlet chair. “There is no more Peter Pan. No more Leonard Snart. But you’re still here, Barry. Neverland needs her fairy and she needs a king.” 

 

Barry snorted. “Let me guess--you?”  He sat up in his chair, eyes narrowed. “You need my heart--need me to  _ love you _ to be King of Neverland. Tinkerbell’s love is what made Peter Pan king and you want the same. But the problem is that I will never be in love with you. You murdered the man I did love in front of me. There is nothing redeemable about you, and there is nothing about you that I love.” 

 

He expected anger or for Hunter to lash out violently. Instead, he smiled. “I know you feel that way now, that any hope of love is gone. That’s why I took precautions.”

 

He reached into his coat inner pocket and pulled out a vial. The same vial where he’d trapped Len’s tear. Barry frowned. It was the same kind of potion bottle that he’d kept the poison in all those years ago, back when he’d tried to kill Pan and Tinkerbell drank it instead. Instead of being topped with a silver skull, though, there was a sphere stopper on top. 

 

Barry shook his head. “I don’t care what potion you gave me. Nothing can make me love you--you can’t create feelings that aren’t there.” 

 

Hunter chuckled, looking over Barry like he was a sad, confused child. “I don’t intend to.” He poured the tear into Barry’s wine and set the vial down. Then, he pulled the leather pouch from his pocket and poured a few pinches of pixie dust in after it. The wine glowed for a moment. 

 

“Personal, intimate things are powerful, Barry,” Hunter explained. “Kisses, virginity, laughter, even tears. The emotions behind them hold a magic all their own. This tear I collected from your love holds the emotions he felt looking at you in his dying moments--his pure, unfiltered love.”

 

He picked up the glass and swirled it a few times. “Mixed with the pixie dust, this will redirect your feelings for Snart to me. All of your grief and misery will disappear. You’ll forget you ever had feelings for him. All of that pain will transform into the pleasurable hum of love.”

 

He held it out to Barry and, for a split second, the thought of being without pain was tempting. But he would never give up any of Len for Hunter. He sneered. “I don’t care. I’m not helping you. You can do whatever you need to, but I refuse.” 

 

Hunter shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He sat the glass back down and strode over to the cabin door. He knocked twice and Mardon and Bivolo walked inside. “Boys, I think we need to send a message to the Natives about what happens when they work against us. Kill the chief and tie her body to the figurehead.”

 

“No!” Barry was on his feet, eyes wide with horror. He couldn’t lose someone else. Not because of him. “Please, don’t hurt her.” 

 

Hunter held up a hand to stop the other pirates. “You did say to do whatever I need to. If this is what it takes, Barry, I will kill her, just like I killed ‘Len’. Can you live with one more death?” 

 

No. He couldn’t. Without a second thought, he grabbed the glass of wine and downed it as quick as possible. It was disgustingly sweet and made him gag, but Hunter watched him with glee. 

 

For a second, nothing happened. Then, everything started to shift. His vision doubled, and he felt his knees getting weak. He didn’t even notice Hunter moved until he fell into his arms, his limbs weak and vision dimming. 

 

\----------

 

There was a voice in the darkness. It was singing a tune, one that was so familiar and yet so foreign.  _ Mom?  _

 

The singing turned cheerful, and he could feel fingers brushing against his forehead.  _ My little lion. My dear Peter…  _ A kiss pressed to his forehead.  _ It’s time to go now. Time to finally leave it all behind. _

 

He groaned reluctantly.   _ What about Hook? He has Barry. I can’t… _

 

_ Barry is gone. You are here. _

 

_ No.  _ Len pulled away from the touch.  _ No...Neverland needs me.  _ Barry  _ needs me. I won’t leave him. _

 

Another hand touched his face, this one more familiar.  _ Come on, you stupid idiot. _

 

_ Lisa? _

 

_ Come on. Pull through. Don’t leave me here on this freakish island alone.  _

 

Island? He moved closer into Lisa touch, following an echo of a song--a Native healing song, one that channeled the magic of the island. He reached out, and Lisa’s hand took his. 

 

_ Wake up. Please, wake up… _

 

Len sucked in a sharp gasp, his eyes flying open as he shot straight up. A pain shot through his stomach the second he moved, and he hissed in pain. His torso was bandaged up with leaves, but he could see the dark stain of blood that seeped through. 

 

When he finally focused around him, he frowned. “Lisa?”

 

His little sister’s eyes were red and puffy from tears. She was clutching his hand like it was a lifeline. She laughed tearfully. “What the hell, Len?” He’d expected a punch in the arm or a push, but instead, Lisa threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. “You were dead. You died in some strange world without even telling me you were leaving.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, burrowing his face into her hair. “I’m so sorry, Lise.”

 

“You should be, Jerk.”    
  


He laughed humorlessly, and the two siblings pulled away from their hug. Len furrowed his brow. “How’d you even get here?”

 

“You can thank your friends out there for that,” she replied, motioning behind her to the door. That’s when he noticed they weren’t in a tent, like in the Native village. They were sitting in a hut made of sticks, with a curtain of vines over the door. 

 

Before he could ask, the vines were pushed to the side and three people walked inside--Mick was the first, followed by Sara, the Canary, and finally, a man he didn’t recognize. The man was tall and slender with brown puppy dog eyes and dark hair. 

 

His eyes went to Mick first. “You...you saved me?”

 

Mick grunted, averting his eyes, but Sara elbowed him in the side. “He won’t admit it, but he feels really bad about turning you in,” she said. “We’ve been tracking you ever since Mermaid Lagoon, in case Pan needed his Lost Boys.” 

 

He quickly looked at Lisa--she must have thought they were all crazy. Instead, she shrugged. “They explained everything to me after they brought me here. Actually being in Neverland was a pretty good selling point.” 

 

Leave it to Lisa to be completely unaffected by Neverland being real. Then again, she’d grown up on his stories. If anyone would believe them, it’d be her. 

 

One thing didn’t make sense, though. “How’d you get enough pixie dust to get to Earth and bring Lisa back? The pirates took all the dust from the grove.”

 

Instead of answering, Mick and Sara both turned to look at the unknown man. The man shifted from foot to foot with a ridiculous, nervous smile on his face. He knew that nervous smile…

 

“I kind of gave up all my dust,” the man said. “It aged me up, like a lot, but I thought it was important that your sister was here, and that she could help you pull through.”

 

Len’s eyes widened. “ _ Raymond?”  _ Raymond Palmer, the littlest and third youngest of the Lost Boys, was now a man well into his thirties. 

 

Ray took it in stride, however, like he did most things. “It was the only way to get your sister here. I couldn’t let Jax or Wally give up there’s, and Sara and Nate don’t have as much to give.”

 

Len shook his head. “That was reckless and idiotic.” He looked to each of his Lost Boys and grinned. “It’s good to be back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *THIS IS WHERE THE LOVE POTION/NON-CON TAG COMES IN

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE COMMENT IF YOU WANT MORE. I really need to know these things.


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